


E. T. (Katy Perry)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [42]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alien!Castiel, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angels are Aliens, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Brief Mention of Polyandry, Castiel falls, Childhood's End crossover, Clueless Castiel, Come Eating, Discussion of war, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Lead me to your Taker, M/M, MCD-Not Any of Our Boys, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebellion, Shower Sex, Winchester-level angst, mentions of psychological torture, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 15:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: When the Celestials came to Earth, they didn't anticipate a rebellion to sprout up.  In an effort to win over the unknown rebels, the Arch Angels send Seraphs down to the surface to cultivate relationships with individual humans.  Seraph Castiel is assigned one Dean Winchester, lowly Kansas mechanic.





	1. E. T. (Katy Perry)

**Author's Note:**

> So, the reason this is such a behemoth is because it's kind of a big story and I'm gonna try to do it in three chapters.
> 
> I may have bitten off more than I can chew in that regard.
> 
> Also, Castiel's portions are in first-person narrative for a specific reason, sorry if it's confusing. I love writing Castiel in first-person, I can relate to him the best.

  1. E. T. (Katy Perry)



 

**_Let me tell you my story.  Let me tell you everything._ **

 

When we came to your planet, it was still isolated, just a simple little backwater world, too far off the beaten galactic path to be of much interest to anyone.  Your species still believed itself to be alone in the universe, the epitome of sentient life.  I know, hard to believe, but it was true, I assure you.  Now, many of my brethren were of a single mind, a unified purpose.  We had, after all, done this many times before.  We had long ago taken on the role of what humans of the time would call the “Fairy Godmothers” of the universe.  Even before my own creation, our species traversed the space between stars, searching for beings who, like us, could reason, could be elevated, could contribute to the community of life that spanned the galaxies.  Yes, I said galaxies.  Life is abundant.  Life is tenacious.  Life is pervasive.  No matter the composition of the atmosphere, no matter its initial spark, no matter its eventual final form, life is everywhere.  As a good friend (I will tell you about him soon enough) once said, you cannot swing a dead cat without hitting life in the universe.  No, I have no clue why your species would wish to fling deceased specimens of beloved pets about in an attempt to measure the amount of life in the universe.  Yes, I was also very confused by your species’ strange customs and sayings, but we are getting away from the point.

 

            Many of us had only the best of intentions towards your species, if not the highest opinions.  No, do not take offense.  Your people have so many attributes to recommend them.  You are all so full of passion, creativity, compassion, and a fierce determination to learn.  But, you are also scared, angry, greedy, and violent creatures.  You can see how such an extravagance of emotion may have been overwhelming for my kind.  We were simple beings, beings of light created for an uncomplicated destiny, acting as teachers and guides to less fortunate species for thousands of millennia.  Never before had we encountered such a contradictory people.  You were, frankly, astonishing, incomprehensible, even, to so many of us.  Those of my kind who could not grasp your basic motivations simply dismissed them, and your species, as not worth our time.  Even if we did not understand you, however, we had a job to do.  Our only purpose was to follow the commands of our superiors, who had, in their infinite wisdom, chosen your planet for instruction and eventual inclusion in our interstellar community.  As I said, ‘many’ of us had the best intentions.  I did not say ‘all’, but we will get to that later. 

 

            I spent the ten years after First Contact in a clerical role.  I did not even step foot on your planet until your leaders had already been brought under our flag of peace.  I am sure our obviously more advanced civilization was the main motivator in the negotiations, but I like to think that the more logical of your leaders saw the multitude of benefits we offered and were able to prevail on their more ‘hot-tempered’ peers.  However it was achieved, our superiors gained your species’ compliance with our standard aid program, or so we were told.  Unbeknownst to us, your species is not predisposed to following its own chosen leaders.  Despite the fact that our people had done nothing but help yours, a rebellion immediately sprung up across the globe.  This rebellion claimed we had come to your planet to enslave, kill, eat, or breed with your species.  I can assure you we had no such intentions, officially anyway.  I was recruited as a last-ditch effort to help your people see reason.  We did not require the compliance of your entire population, but the Archs had seen rebellions like this one ruin relations, years of effort wasted when revolution took hold and ejected us from planets, sometimes violently.  Better to tamp it down as soon as possible, before it could grow.  Because the members of this rebellion were so good at hiding within the general population, millions of us were trained in basic working relations and sent to the surface, assigned to randomly selected individual humans.  Our mission was to convince our charges that we meant no harm and only wished to guide and protect your species as it made its first, tottering steps into the larger universe.  That is what we were told when we were given our vessels and shipped down to the surface for distribution.

 

            I was assigned to a male human, age thirty-four, who worked as a repairman for the barbaric transportation your people were fond of at the time.  His name was Dean Winchester and he is the reason I am here today.

 

**_Huh.  Man, that’s crap.  You always have a choice._ **

****

            “Dean, hey.  So, get this,” Sam swept a big hand through his hair, pushing the locks out of his face, only to have them fall right back to where they had been.  Dean looked up from under the engine of the Gremlin long enough to scoff at his brother’s girly hair flip, then he went back to trying to figure out what was making the clicking sound Charlie had complained about.

 

            “Dean.  Are you even listening to me?” Sam sighed from right next to Dean’s head.  Dean flinched in surprise and absolutely did not yelp when he smacked his head on the stupid little hood of the Gremlin.

 

            “Jesus, Sammy! What?!” Dean pushed on his giant little brother’s chest to make him back up.  He hated when Sam loomed over him.  It was bad enough he was four years younger and four inches taller, did he have to hover like that, too?  Dean wiped engine grease from his hands with a ratty shop rag _after_ he pushed him, served the little bitch right.

 

            Sam was holding up a piece of paper, which he shoved at Dean in favor of trying to brush the smudge of grease off his t shirt.  He should have been glad it was a Saturday or that would have been one of his precious dress shirts.  Dean reflexively grabbed the paper and peered at the header.  He scowled and made to ball it up to throw in the trash, but Sam snatched it out of his hand with an offended gasp.  Dean’s little brother really was an 80-year old church grandmother stuck in a 30-year old man’s body.

 

            “Dean! Oh my God!  Are you crazy? Do you know what this is?”

 

            “Some government bullshit? I don’t care.”

 

            Sam read off the paper in his most smug lawyer voice, “ _Office of Angel Affairs. This is an official government document intended for the addressed recipient **ONLY**.  If the person reading this is not the addressee, please shred immediately.  Dean Winchester,_ then it has your address, your birthday, and last four of your social, _Dear Mr. Winchester, I have the pleasure to inform you that you have been randomly selected to participate in our newly-instituted Angel Acceptance Program. This program is **MANDATORY** for all U. S. citizens, barring special dispensation granted through the authorization of form 10-CO-89.  If you do not wish to apply for dispensation, you are bound by law to comply with the parameters of this program.  Penalties for refusal may include public censor, possible arrest, and probable seizure of property.  This is my fourth attempt to contact you in regard to this matter.  Any further avoidance of your civic duty will be met with the full force of the **LAW**.  Please contact the office below for further instruction._ ”

            “Are you done?”

“This is serious, Dean! You could lose the shop! Or your house! You could go to _jail_!”

“You are such a drama queen.  They aren’t gonna throw me in the hooscow because I don’t want an angel babysitter.”

“Yes they will!  I can’t believe you.  I would _kill_ to get one of these! And here you’ve gotten _four_ and you’re just gonna ignore it?”

 

            “Yes, Mother, I’m gonna ignore it.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

            “I just _told_ you the worst that could happen!  Jail, no shop, no house… _Jail_!”

 

            “Who’s losin’ the shop now?” Bobby’s gruff voice called from the back office.

 

            “Great. Thanks a lot, Sam, now you poked the bear.”  Bobby lumbered out to the shop floor and grabbed the paper out of Sam’s hand, reading it quickly once he dropped his glasses down onto his nose.  He glared at Dean and turned back without a word, taking the paper with him.  “Bobby, come on! They’re not gonna take the damn shop!” Dean yelled at the old man’s back as he disappeared into the office.

 

            “Not lettin’ one of you idjits lose my shop cause a some government alien pen pal _horseshit_!”

 

            Dean glared daggers at his brother, who had the foresight to at least start backing up toward the open shop garage door. “Sam,” Dean growled, “get the fuck outta my shop!”

 

            “This is important, Dean, you’ll see! It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance!  Just think about it, a real-life Angel! An _alien_ from another world! You’re so lucky!”

 

            “You’ll be lucky to make it out of here alive if you don’t leave now, bitch!”

 

            Sam laughed lightly as he ducked out of the building and made a run for his ridiculous black sports car parked at the curb, “You’ll thank me, Dean, one day!  You watch, this’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you!” Sam made it into the driver’s seat and started the car before Dean got to the end of the drive up.  He stuck his stupid shaggy head out the window, grinning like a maniac as he pulled away from the curb with a loud ‘Jerk!’.  Dean flipped him the bird from the end of the drive up.

 

            It wasn’t even three hours later when he was regretting saving Sam’s life when he’d choked on that M & M when he was two years old.  Of course, Dean had been the one to give him the candy after their dad had told him not to, but that was besides the point.  The point was, he had saved that kid’s life and today was the day he had to face the consequences of that selfless act.  His punishment came in the form of one overly-excited lesbian computer hacker.

 

            A blur of red and yellow bolted through the shop door and bowled into Dean’s stomach like a canon shot, knocking him back a step with a huffed ‘Oof!’.  “Damn, Charles! I’m glad to see you, too, but it’s only been,” Dean glanced at his watch as Charlie tried (and failed) to lift him off the concrete floor, “six hours since you saw me last.”

 

            Charlie beamed up at him, then released him to bound over to the service counter.  She jumped up and sat on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and swinging back and forth.  She grinned happily, “I can’t believe I’m gonna meet a real Angel!  This is so exciting! Aren’t you so excited?! I bet you’re so excited! I mean, an alien! It’s a dream come true! Oh, I hope she’s hot! I hear they’re all really hot! Do you think you’ll get a boy or a girl? I hope it’s a girl! A hot girl! Ooo, a hot _dyke_! Like really butch, I like a lot of muscles on my ladies.”

 

            “Charlie! Breathe! Jesus,” Dean sighed, “it’s not a fucking puppy.  Or a girlfriend, for either of us,” Charlie pouted, “Besides, I’m not doing it, so it doesn’t matter anyway.  Do you wanna know what was wrong with your Gremlin?”

 

            “You have to do it, Dean.  It’s not like you have much of a choice.”

 

            “Huh. Man, that’s crap. You always have a choice if your best friend is the most amazing hacker to ever hack…a…computer?  The internets?” Charlie was looking at him like he’d just suggested Zena Warrior Princess was straight and a Republican, “I don’t know! Can’t you get me out of it?”

 

            “Absolutely not! It’s your civic duty, Sam said so.”

 

            “Oh for fuck’s…when have you ever cared about civic duty?”

 

            “Hey! I vote!”

 

            “Not exactly the same thing, Charlie,” Dean scowled at her all menacingly, “And what have I told you about listening to Sam?”

 

            Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes, “Never trust a man who spends more on hair care than you do.”  She hopped off the counter and stood in front of him, one hand on her hip, the other waving around the more excited she got, “I know it’s all some crappy way for the government to force their Angel agenda down our throats and everything, even though I’m not generally, like a big conspiracy theorist.  I’ve read some pretty scary shit lately, you have no idea, but, I digress. The point, my dear handmaiden,” she grabbed onto Dean’s elbows, carefully avoiding his greasy hands, “is that this could genuinely be the most amazing experience of your life.” Charlie walked over to grab her keys from the service counter, “And besides, if anyone can sway an Angel from the straight and narrow, it’s your sweet bisexual ass.” Charlie gave him a peck on the cheek as he blushed stupidly and sputtered like the idiot Bobby was always accusing him of being.  Charlie leaned out the open window of her hideously yellow car, “Just think about it, man.  You win whether it’s a boy _or_ a girl.”

 

            “I kissed _one_ guy, _one_ time, on a _dare_ from **_you_**!  And I was really drunk, Charlie, that doesn’t _count_!” Charlie threw on her sunglasses, but Dean could practically hear her eye roll, “ ** _It doesn’t count if it’s on a dare_**!!” he yelled after her as she backed out of the slot.  She waved at him as she pulled away.  Dean chased after her to the end of the drive up.  He flipped her the bird, too.  “Idjits,” he grumbled as he walked back into the shop.

 

**_My “people skills” are “rusty”._ **

****

            The vessels we received were specially designed to be as attractive yet non-threatening as possible.  We were given attire which we were assured would allow us to “blend in” with our charges and help us establish a good rapport with them.  I knew nothing of human culture, even though I had paid especial attention to the Culture portion of our training download.  I studied it extensively as I was processed for transport to the surface.  The problem was that it was not very in-depth.  I discovered very quickly that I was not at all prepared for my mission.  This was my first foray into field work and I was worried that I would fail my people and ruin our shared goal.  Irrational, I know, but did I mention that the vessels we received were human?  Yes, we were all in flesh and blood, human bodies, many of us for the first time.  My entire existence had been spent as a wavelength of Celestial intent, a barely-physical manifestation of the collective will of my species.  I was not prepared for…sensation.  I was most definitely not prepared for Dean.

 

            Even though my vessel was human, many of my previous abilities remained intact.  My people had long ago developed the capacity to manipulate matter on a quantum level.  Yes, just as you do now.  As you know, it is all a matter of will.  Sentient will is one of the strongest forces on the physical plane.  Flight, healing, telepathic communication, these were all within my power, although I was on a relatively low-priority mission and therefore not eligible for Arch status.  At the time, I retained my previous title of Seraph.  That was the classification given members of my species who performed what you would term civil service.  We were the warriors of our people, although war had not been waged for so long, no Seraph of my generation or even the few previous generations had seen battle.  Our battles were of the bureaucratic kind in those days.  I had not even had any personal interactions with another member of my species for many long years before I was given my mission.  I know to your people I must have seemed very powerful, but to my people, I was merely a lowly office worker on a coffee run.  There was a significant disconnect from the very beginning.

 

            I manifested in the time and place I believed would be most convenient for Dean, his place of business on the appointed day of our introduction.  This was a mistake.  Your people were easily startled at that time.  When I landed in the middle of the auto shop, seemingly out of nowhere, I assumed Dean would be waiting for me.  I did not see anyone upon my initial inspection of the work area, but as I turned around toward the east side of the building, a very thin male human saw me.  He screamed and turned to run from me.  In his haste, he dislodged a nearby metallic shelving unit, which then fell, knocking into a lever.  A grating noise sounded in the confined area and I heard a man shout in panic from inside a well set in the floor.  As a large vehicle was lowered into the well, I saw a hand reach out briefly as if the man inside the well wished to climb out.  By the man’s level of distressed yelling, I quickly discerned he was in immediate physical danger from the vehicle and I raised him from the well.  I brought him safely back to the open floor of the auto shop, where an older gentleman and the thin man who had knocked over the shelving unit stood staring at us.

 

            The older man spoke first.  “What in the bloody blue Hell is goin’ on?!”  The man I had saved was looking at me with what I had to assume was gratitude.  I later learned to recognize it as a combination of shock, horror, and disbelief.

 

            The thin man took a turn speaking.  “Dean!  Oh, man!”  He rushed over to us and swept the man I had saved into his arms, clutching him to his body tightly.  I was knowledgeable enough to name this activity.  It was a hug.  And the thin man was also crying, though I could see no injuries to his body from where I stood.  “I’m so sorry, Dean! That was all my fault!”  From this exchange, I was able to ascertain that I had saved the very man I was assigned to befriend, Dean Winchester.

 

            Once Dean had successfully dislodged the thin man, whom he called alternately ‘Garth’ and ‘Ya Fucking Asshat’, he turned to me.  I decided now would be a good time to make my introduction, “Hello, Dean.”  I got no further, as Dean launched his balled-up hand at my face.  My face was forcibly turned to the side.  Yes, he punched me.  When I turned back to face him, Dean was shaking his hand gingerly, his mouth open in obvious pain.  I was stunned.  No, not by the punch.  As I have stated, we were warned about the violent nature of your species.  I did not know the reason for such a greeting, but it did not surprise me.  I was stunned by Dean’s appearance.

 

            You may think as a mostly-incorporeal species, Celestials are incapable of appreciating physical forms, or that we are not capable of physical attraction.  This is an erroneous assumption.  I have always found beauty in physical forms.  Granted, not every species we have helped is able to present specimens of beauty, but many do.  The Boccielle of Ceti IV, in particular, are a very lovely species, even if their appetite for the flesh of their mates was a serious deterrent to many Celestials who worked with them planet side.  I was and am fully capable of perceiving when a member of your species is exceptionally alluring.  This, combined with the novelty of a human body at my disposal, colluded to induce an entirely new sensation within me.  I experienced desire for the first time, although I did not have a name for it at the time.  My vessel’s heart beat wildly in its chest while simultaneously seeming to halt completely.  Though I have no need of oxygen, the autonomic nervous system of my vessel was functioning correctly.  However, its ability to draw breath ceased to function in that moment.  I felt my vessel’s pupils dilate for no discernable reason.  The skin of my face became warm and tingled somewhat at the hairline.  I could not look away from Dean, as if he were the only other being in existence.  It was terrifying.  It was exhilarating.

 

            Yes, he looked much the same, but also different.  My perception of him now is colored by so many different factors, so much shared history, that I cannot possibly ever see him as I did that first time.  Of course, if you wish.  He was approximately the same height as my vessel, but much more muscular.  He was broader and thicker, dressed in a one-piece garment with many stains of unknown origin.  His hair in the dim of the garage appeared brown and unremarkable, but his eyes, oh his eyes…Of all the species I personally have seen or know of, not a one of them have eyes such as Dean’s.  Humans, of course, have only two eyes, but their limited number only increased their brilliance.  I do not believe they could have shone brighter or clearer had there been dozens of them in their sharp jade glory.  His skin was smudged with discolored smears I could not identify, but under the filth, it was smooth-looking and creamy, like the petals of a cocc’Tie flower.  It was quite exquisite.  His lips were large for a male, from what I understand, plump and full, like those of a female.  But on him, they did not look particularly feminine, rather they fit with the delicate yet hale overall appearance of him.  I know, it seems contradictory, but the dichotomy was intoxicating, mesmerizing.  I had the insane urge to see him without the apparel he sported.  And further, I wished to touch him.  Everywhere.  With my vessel’s mouth. 

 

             Something of my inner turmoil must have shown on my face because Dean’s facial expression changed, softened and he stammered through an apology.  I wondered in that moment if all humans possessing such beauty were deficient in cognizant ability in the balance.  Dean would say that was an uncharitable thought, but in my defense, he had just greeted my innocent attempt at introductions with blatant violence against an infinitely stronger being.  I decided to speak slowly, in case he needed the additional time to process my words.

 

            “Hello, Dean,” I extended my hand slowly, in the local custom of gripping appendages in salutation, as we were instructed to by our leaders, “I am Castiel, a Seraph of the Celestial.  I believe you were expecting my appearance today?”

 

            His response was to begin a passionate verbal argument with the older man, which carried into an adjacent room out of my line of sight.  I was unsure if I should follow since Dean had not completed the introduction and therefore not initiated our partnership properly, so I remained where I was.  The thin man tried to take his place in the introduction contract, but I refused to partake in the physical touch which would have sealed the partnership.  I contented myself with a mild nod in his general direction, then continued to await Dean’s return.  He told me his name was Garth (not Ya Fucking Asshat) and left me there to follow Dean and the older man shortly thereafter.

 

            Dean returned to my location some minutes later but walked around my vessel several times before stopping to face me.  I do not know of any special abilities of perception humans possess that would have facilitated such an inspection, but he seemed satisfied, so I again initiated the introduction.

 

            “Hello, Dean. I am Castiel, a Seraph of the Celestial.  I believe you were expecting my appearance today?”

 

**_My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius. I like long walks on the beach and frisky women._ **

****

            “Yeah, ya said that already,” Dean said.  What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Did they send him a defective Angel or were they out of clone gel and sending them down in robots now?  The Angel’s eyes settled on Dean’s and he had to consciously remember to breathe.  All he could think was _bluebluesoblueliketheskylikethatflowerCharlielikesliketheoceanbluesoblueblueblueblue._

 

            “Do you wish to seal the introduction?” Castiel asked flatly.

 

            Dean smiled.  If nothing else, maybe he could have some fun with this dude.  Dean stuck his hand out, “My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius. I like long walks on the beach and frisky women.”  Castiel immediately grasped his hand, sending a little jolt of electricity up Dean’s arm. Dean tried to wrench his hand away, but Castiel held it firmly, giving it three solid pumps. The jolt seemed to run back the other way, from Dean to the Angel, then Castiel released him. Dean yanked his hand back and rubbed it, like he thought there would be a physical mark left behind from the exchange.  “Wh-what the hell was that, man?!”

 

            Castiel turned that blue gaze up to eleven and attempted what Dean guessed the Angel thought a smile was supposed to look like, but only managed to look more constipated, “Our partnership has been accepted and sealed by both parties.  We are now Bonded.”

 

            “What does that even mean?” Dean asked incredulously.

 

            Castiel tipped his head to the side, as if Dean were an interesting breed of amoeba under a microscope, “It means we are Bonded.” At Dean’s continued stare of confusion, Castiel elaborated, slowly and with as many simple words as possible, “Bonded means we are now equal partners in an emotional attachment, whereby I can receive telepathic communication from you; I will feel any strong emotions you feel, if we are in close proximity; I will be able to transport you literally anywhere on the planet in the space of a breath; and you will be able to avail yourself of my healing skill and my knowledge of galactic affairs, mathematics, the history of my race, and many other subjects.”  If Dean hadn’t known any better, he would say Castiel sounded smug.  “In exchange, I will have the opportunity to observe you in your natural habitat and, hopefully, gain insight into you personally and your species as a whole.”

 

            “That don’t sound like an ‘equal partnership’, man.  I mean, I get to _avail_ myself of all your cool super powers and you get to watch me, what? Act casual?  Sounds like you’re gettin’ the short end of the stick,” Dean mused.

 

            “I assure you, not only do I have no knowledge of any involvement concerning sticks of any kind, I am most certainly the one benefitting more from our involvement.”

 

            “Dude! Don’t call it an ‘involvement’, makes it sound like we’re, ya know, together.”

 

            “But we are together, Dean.  Ours is a most profound Bond.  Never before have my people extended such a courtesy to any species on any planet we have worked on.  It is quite an honor and a testament to your species' particular…complexity.”

 

            Dean scoffed.  Who the fuck did these guys think they were?  “I don’t think it’s all that great, _Cas_ ,” Dean said, “It’s really kind of a pain in my ass, if ya ask me.  First of all, I didn’t volunteer for this shit, I was forced into it.  You think I’m thrilled about some clueless alien following me around, bumping into shit, asking stupid questions, and generally being a nuisance? Well, I’m not.  I got shit to do and a life to live, so you can just chill with the whole ‘honor and testament’ crapola.  And secondly, what the fuck do you mean by ‘complexity’?  Is that alien speak for ‘stubborn asshole’, ‘cause it sounds like you’re callin’ us a bunch of unruly dickbags here, Cas,” Dean had gotten louder as he stepped closer to Castiel during his tirade.  There was definitely something wrong with the Angel.  He didn’t move even a millimeter back as Dean advanced on him, practically screaming accusations at him.  The guy just stood there, placid as a summer day, blue eyes boring a hole into Dean.  That kind of calm just wasn’t natural.  By the time Dean stopped to draw a good breath and glare down at the slightly shorter alien, they were damn near nose-to-nose, their chests brushing with every inhale.

 

            The Angel watched him, almost going cross-eyed in the effort.  After a moment, his face changed, if only minutely.  It was only because he was standing so close that Dean noticed the micro-expression at all.  He also noticed that the Angel smelled like lavender and ozone and fresh cut grass.  It made Dean think of the crisp smell of impending summer storms, the kind that would roll across the Plains and wash the land clean.  He and Sam used to spend hours as children sitting on the porch, waiting for the rain to start, surrounded by that smell.  For some reason, Dean’s heart rate started to slow under the onslaught of that smell and he barely remembered not to smile at the alien, the urge to grin lazily an automatic response to the smell of him.

 

            “I am…a nuisance?” Castiel tilted his head again and sounded…Well, he kind of sounded hurt.

 

            Dean backed up a step, shocked at his own response to the man.  No, not a man, the alien.  The guy looked so human, it would be easy to forget what he really was.  And the way he smelled…it was too much, he had to get some distance.  Dean shook his head slightly, trying to clear the miasma of good feelings the guy was bringing to mind.  He looked at the Angel studiously, thinking about how this all must be making the alien feel for the first time since he got the first notification in the mail.  “No,” he heard himself say, “no…um, that’s not…Look, it’s just…it’s the situation, ya know?  I don’t like being told I have to do something or I’ll lose my shop or go to jail or whatever, because, like, I’m a good person.  I pay my taxes and shit.  I didn’t do anything wrong.  And I don’t think it’s right that the government threatened me to get me to do this.  It’s just not right, ya know?  This is supposed to be the land of the free. Just don’t feel like I’m very free right now.”

 

            “I see,” Castiel looked down for a second, his blue eyes flashing with a spark of light as he looked back up at Dean, “I’m afraid it is irreversible, according to my superiors.  They have denied my request for a release from the Bond.  May I ask you a question?  I do not believe it is a stupid question.”

 

            Dean couldn’t help the little half smile that sneaked onto his face, “Yeah, sure, shoot.”

 

            Castiel held his hands out to his sides, palms up, “I do not possess any projectile weapons, Dean.  Even if I did, I do not believe this is the appropriate location for the discharge of such.  I additionally would not wish to cause you harm, as I am unpracticed with the proper handling and use of firearms.”

 

            Dean’s bark of laughter startled them both, “Ha! Uh, no, man, it’s just…when I said ‘shoot’ I meant go ahead and ask your question.  Jesus, you guys are literal.  You sure you’re not Vulcans?  Never mind, don’t answer that…just…ask what you wanna ask.”

 

            “Is your sense of personal liberty and independence from authority figures indicative of your entire race, or do you feel you have an exceptionally honed appreciation of your own judgement as opposed to the judgement of your elected leaders?”

 

            “Are you asking if all people are as bull-headed as me?” Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut him off, “Yeah, I can’t speak for everyone, but being a stubborn bastard is kind of a family trait,” he chuckled.  Castiel seemed satisfied with the answer, almost like he was making a mental note reading ‘Winchesters = stubborn bastards’.  “Hey,” Dean glanced behind the Angel and quickly around the shop, “can I ask you a question?”  Castiel nodded earnestly.  Even though they were alone on the shop floor, Dean lowered his voice and stepped back up closer to the alien, “Where’d ya get this body?  I thought you guys were, like, bolts of electricity or something.”

 

            Castiel looked down at himself briefly, “This…this vessel was constructed by infusing my Grace with a base human DNA, a blank slate, if you will.  This is the result.”

 

            “Wow, so, this is…this is you, if you were a human?” Dean stepped a little closer, voice inexplicably lower.  Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

 

            “It is necessary, for me to be able to retain my Grace in a human form.  I would not be able to exist in just any vessel, you see. My True Form is larger than your Chrysler Building,” Castiel whispered.  Dean was so close now, too close, he couldn’t seem to string two words together without breathing him in.  He smelled of engine grease and leather and something else, something Castiel couldn’t define, with his limited experience as a human.  “I…I must ask…would you please…” Castiel mumbled breathlessly, his eyes drawn to Dean’s.

 

            Dean glanced down the length of the Angel’s body and damn, what a body it was, slim hips, wide shoulders, a casual economy of movement that belied a restrained power lurking under his skin.  Dean got the sense of apex predator in the guise of a frumpy tax accountant.  Dean cleared his throat and locked gazes with the alien, “First lesson on humanity, Cas,” he said lowly, “we are, above all, physical creatures.” Dean let his eyes cut down to Castiel’s lips.  He had a wide-set mouth, lips pink and slightly chapped.  Dean licked his in sympathy and he caught Cas’ eyes twitching down to follow the movement.

 

            “You…you are ruled by the physical…by sensation and emotion,” Castiel breathed, “We were told…we were taught to expect this, but I…I did not expect…”

 

            “What, Cas? What didn’t you expect?”

 

            His head spun with the nearness of the human, his smell, his breath, his eyes.  He was breathing in his air, electricity sparked across his skin at every point where they almost touched and Castiel’s fingers twitched toward the human. “You,” he sighed, incapable of putting everything he was feeling into more words, subsumed as he was in such a new experience, something so entirely outside his realm of identifiable knowledge.

 

            Dean hummed happily, caught up in a rush of lust he hadn’t anticipated, drawn in by the Angel’s smell, those eyes, like depthless wells of infinity, sucking Dean’s soul into the bright light of a dying sun, as undeniable as gravity.  He was burning up on entry and he couldn’t find it in himself to fight it. “Next lesson, Cas,” Dean whispered and let his eyes go half-lidded, stretching out his neck and tipping his head slightly, his lips soft and millimeters from the Angel’s.

 

            “Um…Dean?” Sam said from behind Dean.

 

**I learned that from the pizza man.**

The following months were the most exhilarating of my entire existence, on a completely visceral level.  Although Dean was clearly embarrassed to be caught by his brother, that did not stop him from continuing my education on the human condition.  At his place of work, I learned not only that Dean was incredibly knowledgeable about the vehicular transportation of your planet, but also the depth of emotional attachment he had toward these metal contraptions.  They were not simply a mode of transportation from point A to point B, not for him.  No, for Dean, they were a symbol of freedom and a joy he had never been able to experience without them.  He showed me how they were composed of disparate parts which all worked together in perfect harmony to propel the vehicle and its passengers forward.  He showed me the unparalleled wonder of being the orchestrater of this process, the conductor to this symphony of mechanization.  Above all, I learned about passion, dedication, and satisfaction from Dean.  But that was during the daytime hours.  After we left his repair shop, the lessons became somewhat…different.

 

The first evening, Dean took me to what he called the ‘Mecca of American burgers’.  I was, of course, familiar with all religions currently being practiced on your planet, but I still failed to see the connection between what I now know to be a lower-middle class bar and the holy city of Mecca.  I have no need to imbibe any potables nor do I require sustenance to maintain my vessel.  Dean dismissed this statement, decrying it as ‘downright un-American’.  I reminded him that I was not, in fact, an American, to which he replied, ‘when in Rome’.  I was completely confused by this obsession with foreign cities and thus discontinued that line of conversation.  Dean was teaching me about the complexities of human behavior so, I vowed to be a good student and accept his reasoning, even if I did not fully understand it.

 

I should take a moment at this point to describe Dean’s feelings toward family.  The traditional family units at the time were not something Dean was very familiar with, so he had amassed his own family, which consisted of only one blood relative, his brother Samuel.  Despite this fact, Dean valued family above even his own well-being.  The remainder of his family were a number of close friends who had been in his life for varying amounts of time.  His ‘Uncle’ Bobby, the elderly man I met on the first day at the auto shop, had taken Dean and Sam in when they were teenagers, as their father was incapable of caring for them any longer and did not wish to allow strangers to raise his sons.  Their father died when Dean was 18, of liver cancer.  No, it was not curable in those days.  Dean would not speak much about that time, except to tell me that he acquired custody of Sam through the good grace of the local sheriff and a very understanding judge, both of whom became members of his family.  Sheriff Jody Mills and Judge Rufus Turner were two of the humans I was introduced to at the burger Mecca that first day.  The owner of the bar, a one Ellen Harville, and her daughter Johanna Beth, were also members of Dean’s family, seemingly by virtue of a long-standing relationship Ellen’s deceased husband had had with Dean’s father.  From my understanding, Ellen acted as a mother figure for the young Winchester boys, as their mother had died in a house fire when they were very young.  Young Jo, while treated like another sibling by Dean and Sam, clearly thought of Dean in a more romantic way.  I did not get along with her as well as the others.  I do not know why this should be, but it was.

 

We had already consumed our meal and Dean had insisted I drink the entire glass of alcohol Jo had brought me when she returned and spoke quietly into Dean’s ear.  It was very rude, but he only told me to stay in my seat and he would return to me soon.  He followed her to the bar but then disappeared around the side and into the back, out of my sight.  I waited as he had instructed.  I spent the time watching Jo Harville interact with the other patrons seated at the bar.  From these observations, I determined that her interactions with Dean were entirely too familiar.  When Dean returned, I reported my conclusion to him.  He simply smiled at me and assured me he only thought of her as a sister before insisting we leave.  I believe this was my first time experiencing jealousy.  It was not pleasant, but I digress.

 

Upon returning to his home, a small house not far from his place of business and the bar, Dean bid me follow him.  Once we were inside, he pulled my overcoat from my vessel and instructed me to remove my shoes, stating I should get comfortable.  I assured him I was comfortable with attire or without.  This statement caused him to stumble over his boots as he tried to remove them, and he coughed out a little laugh.  We were soon sitting side-by-side on his couch while he attempted to educate me in one of his favorite forms of entertainment.  In that time, humans spent many of their non-working hours watching televised plays.  No, not like the interactive virtual reality shows of today, these were strictly unshared experiences, very one-sided.  The show we watched that first day was called ‘Dr. Sexy, M.D.’ and was a particular favorite of Dean’s.  He tried to explain the intricacies of the convoluted plot, but it was mostly a series about the interpersonal relationships within a hospital setting.  From what I knew about the American healthcare system and the primitive attempts humans made at healing one another, I found the program to be entirely unrealistic in those aspects.  The dynamics between the characters I was less able to judge.  At some point during our viewing, Dean had moved himself closer to me and it was causing me some trouble as I tried to give my full attention to the show.

 

As I stated previously, close proximity to Dean had a heretofore unknown effect on me.  I was completely unable to control the physical reactions of my vessel, in fact, I had no desire to control them.  These emotions and sensations washed over me, unbidden and unstoppable and I feared I would be lost to them forever.  I did not anticipate that I would so willingly walk away from everything I had ever known in favor of staying by Dean’s side.

 

**I like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.**

            “Um…Dean?” Sam said from behind Dean.

 

            It was probably a good thing Sam chose that moment to cockblock Dean.  He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he thought he was doing, getting all sex monster with the Angel.  It was clear the guy was attracted to him, but he wasn’t a hundred percent positive fucking an alien was such a good idea.  The splash of cold water that was his little brother’s voice shocked him out of the trance those blue eyes had put him in and he cleared his throat and stepped back out of the Angel’s space, turning to face Sam with a grin and a jaunty hi-how-are-ya, like he hadn’t been about to ravish an alien in the middle of the shop on a Monday morning.

 

            Sam gave him a bitchface that communicated his disgust with Dean’s rampant libido well enough to have Dean blushing and ducking his head.  Sam rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out to Castiel, “Hello, I’m this idiot’s brother, Sam Winchester.”  Castiel blinked and stared at Sam’s hand like he’d never seen such a thing before.

 

            “Shake his hand, Cas,” Dean said.

 

            Castiel turned a questioning look on Dean, “But…is this something you do even when…I am unsure…is this standard?”

 

            “What? Yeah, of course…it…yes, Cas, when you meet someone new, you shake their hand, just like we did earlier.  It isn’t…you aren’t sharing anything…you aren’t making a new bond, besides, like, a normal friendship kinda thing.  Look, it’s fine, just…just shake his hand. Please,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed in frustration.  It was like talking to a child, an overgrown child in a too-large trench coat.

 

            Sam’s smile had started to waver but perked right back up when Castiel stepped up and took his hand, grip firm and sure, “Hello, Sam Winchester.  I am Castiel, a Seraph of the Celestial.  I do not wish to create a Bond with you, outside the normal one of friendship.  Your brother and I already share a more profound Bond.  It would be unacceptable to form another with you.”

 

            Sam’s smile fell completely off his face as he dropped Castiel’s hand.  He looked uncomfortably between Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, and the Angel, who was trying out what Sam supposed the alien thought a smile should be.  It was not what a smile should be.  He couldn’t see what it was about the guy that had Dean all hot and bothered.  He was okay-looking, nothing special, except his eyes, which were rather nice.  Sam had long suspected his brother batted for both teams but had yet to see Dean even flirt with another guy.  For some reason, Sam had pictured Dean’s first guy-crush to look a little different than a slightly disheveled tax accountant with absolutely zero social skills.  Of course, the lack of social skills was because the accountant was from another planet, but still. 

 

            “Um, yeah, nice to meet you, Castiel,” Sam looked between them again, “I, uh, just wanted to stop by, ya know, and meet you, tell you welcome to our planet and all that…So, um, welcome to, um, Earth…Dean, can I talk to you?”

 

            “Cas, stay here, I’ll be right back,” Dean sighed, patting Castiel on the shoulder.

 

            “I’ll just,” Dean and Sam walked away, “wait here, then.”

 

            Sam grabbed Dean’s upper arm and hustled him into the dark hallway that led to the back office where Sam could hear Bobby snoring like a lumberjack.  “Dude, what the Hell?” he hissed at his older brother.

 

            “What?” Dean tried to pack as much innocence into the word as possible, but Sam wasn’t buying it.

 

            “What do you mean ‘what’? You know exactly what I mean…Just, what the Hell do you think you’re doing?  You aren’t supposed to fuck your Angel, Dean!  Jesus, I mean, I knew you were a slut, but come on!”

 

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about!  I wasn’t gonna…I mean, not like right now…Hey, ya know, it’s not really any of your business what we do, anyway!  We’re both consenting…adults, or whatever,” Dean argued.

 

            “You’re supposed to be learning about each other’s cultures, developing human/Angel relations, not boinking some unsuspecting alien in the middle of a Monday in Bobby’s shop!”

 

            “Who’s to say boinking isn’t part of developing relations?”

 

            “God, you are disgusting.  This whole experience is totally wasted on you, isn’t it?”

 

            “I can do this any way I want.  And let’s not forget who pressured me into doing this in the first place,” Dean stared at Sam pointedly.  “Why don’t you just mind your own business for once, Sammy, and leave me to mine?” Dean turned to walk out of the hallway.

 

            “Stop calling me that!”

 

            “Fine, Bitch!”

 

            “I’m leaving.  Don’t do anything stupid!” Sam strode over to the front door. “JERK!” he shouted as he stepped out into the bright sunlight, leaving his brother to do what he always did, try to solve his problems with sex.  He had a feeling Dean was biting off more than he could chew this time, but that was, as Dean had reminded him, none of his business.

 

            Dean walked back over to where Castiel waited patiently by Bay 2.  “Alrighty then.  Um, Cas, let’s…I’m gonna show you how we replace a carburetor, okay?”  The Angel nodded, and Dean dove into the world of car repair for the rest of the day.  The act of doing one of his favorite things for a captive audience, even if that audience spent as much time watching the muscles in Dean’s arms and back shift under his skin as he spent learning about car repair, gave Dean a feeling of accomplishment he normally didn’t experience on an average day at the shop.  He was feeling so good by the end of the day, he thought he’d cap off the afternoon with a trip to the Roadhouse.  Castiel should learn the finer points of good food and quality beer, too, right?  Plus, he really needed to talk to Ash asap.

 

            He had chatted to Castiel all day, telling him the abridged version of he and Sam’s childhood, explaining various human customs like handshakes and dating, telling bawdy jokes (the only kind he knew, really), then explaining the jokes.  Castiel had taken it all in stride, in fact, he had hung on every word and tried to find the humor or significance in every story and joke.  He asked a lot of questions and seemed to consider Dean’s answers seriously.  It was the most attention Dean had ever been paid in his entire life and it was sort of addicting.  He decided fairly early on that Castiel was coming home with him, he just couldn’t give him up quite yet, even if the talk with Ash didn’t go well.

 

            Dean introduced Castiel around to the regulars at the bar.  Everyone behaved themselves and he was able to detach Castiel from Ellen early enough to avoid her inevitable embarrassing when-Dean-was-a-kid stories.  The only hitch in the evening came when he introduced Cas to Jo.  The two seemed to take an instant dislike to each other, like a dog and a cat.  Dean could practically see Castiel’s hackles go up and hear Jo hiss at the alien.  A few pointed looks from Dean kept Jo in check, but he was still confused as to why.  Just when they were finishing up Castiel’s first burger and beer, Jo came over to tell him Ash was ready for him.  Dean took a deep breath to center himself and told Castiel to wait for him there.  When he got back, the Angel revealed why he didn’t like Jo and it made Dean want to laugh in relief.  Seemed the Angel was jealous, confirming what Dean had suspected and laying the groundwork for the rest of the evening nicely.  Of course, Jo wasn’t a threat to anyone as Dean only saw her as a sister and knew she’d get over her little crush on him eventually.  Castiel huffed indignantly when Dean told him this, cutting a lethal glare over at Jo as they left.

 

            Castiel seemed as reluctant as Dean to part ways, so Dean drove them to his little house by the shop, parking Baby in the short driveway since the garage was filled to the brim with Dean’s woodworking gear and tools.  Dean turned the TV on and lucked out with a Dr. Sexy marathon.  All his old high school moves worked amazingly well on the Angel and soon they were sitting thigh-to-thigh in the middle of Dean’s third-hand couch.  Dean reached over and laid his hand on Castiel’s knee, watching out of the corner of his eye for a reaction.  Despite how he and Charlie acted, they both knew he was perfectly fine with admitting he was bisexual, he just hadn’t found any guys he was attracted to enough to do much more than a little light kissing and groping, and that was always during LARPing events, where he could be open without the fear of what his family would say.  But this here, this was wrong on a whole new level.  Dean shivered with the thrill of taboo times two.  Not only was this a man, this was an alien in the _shape_ of a man.  Sam had said it: this was not allowed.

 

            Yet Castiel did nothing to stop it.  Maybe he didn’t know this was a prelude to anything.  Maybe he was as innocent about this as he had been about shaking hands.  Maybe he needed Dean to show him what to do, that it was okay.  Maybe he just needed Dean.  Dean moved his hand up to mid-thigh, the alien’s human skin hot through the thin material of his slacks, his breath coming out louder in the lull of volume between show and commercial.  Dean dared a quick glance over at his face.  Castiel was staring so hard at the television, as if the answer to Dean's intent lie there.  Dean traced a line up and down the inseam of Castiel’s slacks, getting a little higher with each pass.  He saw Castiel swallow hard and glance down at Dean’s hand out of the corner of his eye.  The Angel’s eyes snapped back up to the TV as the show resumed and Dean took his hand away to move his arm across the back of the couch behind the Angel.  Dean caught a barely-there whimper of disappointment at the movement and he allowed himself a tiny little smirk.  He let his arm slide off the couch to rest on Castiel’s shoulders, turning his upper body in toward the other man slowly and letting his left hand fall on his knee.  Castiel’s breath caught for a split second but his attention toward the show never wavered.  Dean leaned in just the slightest bit and inhaled slowly, taking in that intoxicating scent of growing things and sharp lightening strikes and letting his left hand follow the path forged by his right.  He let it go even further, into unexplored land, his index finger grazing the crux of Cas’ inseam.  The Angel jerked back, a gasp escaping his parted lips.

 

            “Dean,” Castiel turned his head toward the human, his voice a deep well filled to the brim with gravel, “what is this? Wh-what are yo-we, what are we doing?  Is this part of watching television?”

 

            Dean smiled.  The Angel was still sitting stiff as a board, but the muscles of his inner thigh twitched under Dean’s hand and he had relaxed enough to let Dean’s index finger brush circles over the rigid connection of inseam and zipper, “Mmm…not exactly.  I wanna show you something new.  Don’t you wanna learn everything you can?”

 

            Castiel’s face softened and his body relaxed further into the springy old couch, practically melting toward Dean.  He sighed out, “Of course, Dean.”  Dean hummed again, using his right hand on Cas’ shoulder to draw his upper body toward him, his left hand kneaded into the strong muscle of Castiel’s thigh.  His thumb traced the juncture of hip and thigh and his fingers cupped Castiel lightly.  The alien’s breathing had picked up to an alarming rate, puffs of warm air pushing against Dean’s face as they both watched his left hand.  “I thought…I cannot…Dr. Sexy…Dean,” Cas rambled.

 

            “Shh, it’s okay, Cas.  Hey, look at me,” Dean whispered, and the Angel met his eyes. “Slow down your breathing, buddy, you’re gonna hyperventilate.  That’s it…that’s better, good.” Dean let his fingers tighten on the growing bulge in Castiel’s slacks.  He bent his face and let his lips drift towards Castiel’s, “This is a kiss,” he breathed. He brushed his lips up against Cas’, softly, and Castiel’s body stiffened again, so he pushed more insistently, his lips crushing Castiel’s, pushing his head back a bit.  His right hand snaked up the back of Castiel’s neck and his fingers combed through the hair at the base of his head to cup his skull and hold him steady as Dean kissed him again.  Castiel finally eased into it, his vessel responding more naturally as he let it do what it would.  He kissed back, moving his lips subtly across Dean’s.  Dean took that for permission to seek entry and he licked at the seam of Cas’ lips.  Castiel opened his mouth in a little gasp/sigh and Dean slid his tongue in gingerly, licking gently across the inside of Cas’ bottom lip and tracing inward along Castiel’s sharp teeth, until he got to Cas’ tongue.  He coaxed the slippery muscle up out of its bed and massaged it with his tongue, encouraging it to slide past and into his own mouth.  Dean used his grip on the back of Castiel’s head to turn it to the left and he slotted their mouths together completely, deepening the kiss and stroking the hard line of the Angel’s erection simultaneously.

 

            Castiel broke the kiss with a breathy little ‘oh’ that went straight to Dean’s dick and suddenly he wanted Cas’ long, elegant fingers on him.  He paused in his groping explorations to move Castiel’s right hand from his own knee to what was quickly becoming an uncomfortable situation in Dean’s jeans.  Castiel stared, rapt, at his hand on Dean’s cock and like the good student he’d been all day, he perfectly mimicked what Dean had been doing to him.  Dean shuddered out a sigh and bent his head to recapture Castiel’s mouth with his own.  From there on out, Castel mirrored Dean’s every movement, proving to Dean what a quick study he was.  Dean pulled Castiel in even closer, chests touching, and decided they were far too clothed as their kisses dissolved into messy licks and panting into each other’s mouths.  Dean leaned back, taking his hands off Castiel to pull his flannel off.  The Angel looked a debauched mess, his eyes lust-blown and lips shiny-swollen with Dean’s spit as he tried to follow Dean’s mouth, leaning over too far and catching himself with his hand on the back of the couch.  “Get some clothes off, dude,” Dean panted.

 

            Castiel divested himself of his jacket, letting it fall behind him, and making quick work of his shirt’s buttons, “Is this the next step, nudity?”

 

            Dean barked a laugh, “Yeah, Cas, we’re gonna get naked.” Dean loosened the tie and lifted it over Cas’ head, then worked on unbuttoning the man’s sleeves.  “Trust me, this is gonna be fun.”

 

            “Is this what friends do?” he asked innocently as he shucked his dress shirt and pulled his undershirt off smoothly.  Dean’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight, taking in Castiel’s tan skin and sleekly muscled chest.  He had the body of a swimmer or a runner, all economically spare muscle and sinew, built for speed and endurance more than power and heft.

 

            “Uh, yeah,” Dean muttered as he shed his own t shirt, “not all of ‘em, but yeah, friends…special friends can do this.” He unbuckled Castiel’s belt, pulling it out of the slacks with a shushed snick and letting it fall behind the couch.  Castiel unbuttoned his slacks as he watched Dean do the same to his jeans, mimicking Dean’s movements again as the human slid his pants down over his ass and kicked them off his ankles, until they were both in nothing but their boxers and socks.  Dean was only slightly worried about how he might smell after a whole day in the shop, but Castiel didn’t seem put off, in fact, he kept taking big inhales every time he got close enough, like he was trying to get enough of Dean’s scent to catalog it fully.  Dean let his worries fall away and rose up to straddle the alien sitting in his underwear on the lumpy couch.

 

            Castiel gasped and let Dean push him back into the worn cushions, Dean’s knees settling on either side of his hips.  Dean planted his hands on either side of Castiel’s head and leant down until his could feel Cas’ breath crossing his face, “Is this okay? Do you want to do this?”

 

            “I…I do not know what this is.  Are we…are we going to…mate?”

 

            Dean chuckled lowly and kissed Castiel chastely, “No, not exactly.  I just want to show you some things that are gonna feel really good, okay?”

 

            “Like eating cheeseburgers?”

 

            “Something like that.  You tell me if you get uncomfortable at any point and we’ll stop,” Dean let his boxer-clad cock brush over Castiel’s.  Not a full-on grind, but definitely a shadow of what was to come, so to speak.

 

            “Oh…No, I am…I am comfortable,” Castiel’s hands went to Dean’s big shoulders, his mouth seeking Dean’s, “very comfortable…don’t…don’t stop, please, Dean…I-“

 

            Dean cut off his breathy pleas with a kiss, not chaste this time, but deep and filthy, rolling his hips down at the same time as he wrapped his arms around the alien’s shoulders.  Castiel groaned into the back of Dean’s throat, his hips thrusting up into Dean’s uncontrollably and his hands digging divots into the pale flesh of Dean’s shoulder blades.  “Feels good, huh?” Dean breathed into Castiel’s sharp jaw as he gave it a couple of nips and proceeded to lick down the man’s neck.  Castiel grunted an affirmative and moved his hands down Dean’s back to grip his ass over the thin material of his boxers.  The Angel’s skin was a furnace, bathing Dean in waves of roiling heat as Dean tipped his pelvis down and lined up their hard cocks side-by-side.  Castiel’s harsh breaths ruffled Dean’s hair as he made his way down to the Angel’s perfect collar bone, where he pulled the skin between his teeth and gave it an experimental suck.  Castiel made a sound that could not be classified as entirely human as he grasped Dean’s ass and thrust up into him harder.  Dean grinned against the Angel’s skin and sucked harder before pulling his head back and admiring his work.  He frowned as the bruise lightened and disappeared before his eyes.

 

            “Hey!  Why’d ya do that?” Dean slurred.  He didn’t give Castiel a chance to answer, dipping his head and working another hickey into the Angel’s neck, growling out a command to leave it there as he moved back to the alien’s collar bone.

 

            Castiel seemed almost beyond speech as he grunted and squirmed under Dean, the noises making Dean leak into his underwear.  Dean moved back up to kiss Cas again, all urgent, wet tongue and clacking teeth as he worked the Angel’s cock out of the slit in the front of his boxers.  Castiel broke the kiss with a gasped ‘Dean’ and they both looked down to where Dean held the hard length in his palm.  Castiel looked up to watch Dean’s face as he stroked once, lightly, from base to tip, running his thick thumb over the wet slit at the top.  Castiel let his head fall back as electricity pinged back and forth through his vessel and he let Dean’s words wash over him as he sunk into the feelings.  “This is called a handjob,” Dean tightened his grip and used the fluid dripping from the tip to decrease the burning friction his movements caused.  “When you do it to yourself, it’s called jerkin’ off, but it’s better when someone else does it, right?  Do you like it, Cas?”

 

            Castiel’s fingers dug into Dean ass as he tried to surface long enough to answer Dean.  He nodded and grunted out, “Better than cheeseburgers and beer.” Dean laughed breathily and released his grip on Castiel’s dick.  Castiel whined indignantly and lifted his head to glare at the human.

 

            Dean shushed him with an easy smile and freed his own dick from its cotton prison, sighing as he stroked himself one-two-three times to relieve some pressure.  Castiel’s mouth dropped open as he watched this fascinating creature, his head thrown back to expose the long line of his throat, bulging muscles working over bone in his arms as he fisted his cock, which was a deep red and smeared with streaks of shiny pre-ejaculate.  Dean righted his head and his green eyes bored into Castiel’s as he took the Angel’s hand and placed it on his dick.  He wrapped his own calloused palm around Castiel’s and stroked his dick, showing Cas how to run his thumb across the sensitive bundle of nerves at the base of the head with every upstroke.  Dean lifted his hand away and let Cas take over so he could return to stroking the alien’s cock.  The heavy feel of him in Dean’s hand, the soft skin over iron-hard flesh, even the heat and pulse of him in Dean’s hand, had Dean soaring, pushed closer and closer to the edge.  Dean leaned on his left hand, braced next to Castiel’s head, and kissed the man into the couch, trying to distract himself from coming too soon.

 

            Castiel wriggled and grunted and sighed under him but never flagged in his strokes, bringing Dean closer and closer.  When Dean finally released his lips, the Angel began whispering in another language, the words a liquid heat that slithered over Dean’s skin and buried themselves deep inside.  He sounded like water and rushing winds and thrashing branches and Dean was quickly caught up in the storm, gasping into the skin of Castiel’s neck and muttering endearments of his own.

 

            “So pretty, Cas…so good…feels so good…God, gonna make you feel so good…you’re…ah…ah…ah…fuck, baby…so…fuck…like that…gonna make me come…so good…gonna mess you up so pretty, Cas…gonna come for me, baby?  Come on,” Dean sped up his strokes and Castiel jerked under him like he’d been gut punched.  He matched Dean stroke for stroke, though, as they raced together toward the end.

 

            Castiel switched back to English as his glazed eyes locked onto Dean’s, “I…oh…oh…oh…Dean…mmm…something…something’s…happening…something…pressure…oh…what…”

 

            “Let it go, Cas…come on…just let go…let it happen…faster now…oh fuck yes…here it comes, baby…gonna come…gonna feel…so good…ungh…fuck…fuck…ungh… _fuuuuuuccccckkk_ …” Dean felt his balls draw up and the familiar heat pool at the base of his spine as he watched the Angel come undone under him.  Castiel bucked up once, twice, and then he screamed to the ceiling, his cock pulsing and fattening impossibly in Dean’s grip as it blurted out rope after rope of pearly come that shot up Castiel’s stomach and over Dean’s knuckles.  Dean felt his own orgasm snap through him in a rush of wave after wave of throbbing pleasure and he shot his own load with a growl over Castiel’s stomach and chest, almost up to his chin.  Dean humped into Castiel’s fist as he slow-stroked the alien through his orgasm and out the other side.  The Angel slumped back into the couch, turning bleary blue eyes up to Dean, truly smiling for the very first time as a shudder of ebbing bliss passed through his vessel and his dick burped up a final pulse of jizz.  Dean let go before the man could get too oversensitive and Cas followed suit.  He really was an incredibly fast learner.

 

            Dean cupped the Angel’s stubbly chin with his clean hand and bent to place a soft kiss to his swollen lips, “Good, huh?” he breathed across Cas’ mouth.  Dean sat back to take in the view of an Angel sprawled out under him, their combined come cooling on his still-heaving stomach, his dick sated and shrinking by the second against his hip.

 

            “That…that was…a revelation,” Castiel sighed.  He lifted his hand and inspected Dean’s seed, tilting his head in consideration.  He brought his hand to his mouth as Dean watched and darted his tongue out to lick a small amount off his thumb.  Dean’s breath hitched and Castiel’s eyes came up to watch Dean’s face as he licked again, slurping Dean’s come up eagerly.  Dean’s dick gave a valiant twitch as Castiel finished with a breathy, “Definitely better than a cheeseburger.”  Dean huffed a laugh as he slid backwards and snagged his t shirt off the floor to clean them up.  He pulled Castiel up off the couch and walked him down the hall to his bedroom, pushing the alien down on the bed with the command to stay there while Dean got ready for bed.  Seeing Cas lying on his bed, naked and waiting so willingly made Dean’s stomach do a little flip, but he ignored it in favor of joining the man and slipping them both under the covers.  He showed Cas how to be the little spoon, despite the Angel’s protests that he did not require sleep.  Dean bid him stay the night, to get the full experience, of course, in the name of human/Angel relations and he agreed easily, letting Dean snuggle in behind him. 

 

            “Are we going to do more of the handjobs?  I greatly enjoyed that,” Castiel asked matter-of-factly.

 

            Dean smiled into the skin of the back of the alien’s neck, “Oh, we’re gonna do a lot more than that.  Just trust me, I’m gonna teach you everything.”

 

            “Yes, Dean.  I look forward to it.  Perhaps in the morning?”  Dean chuckled at the eager alien and snuggled closer with a nod and an affirmative hum.

 

            As they lay there, warm under the blankets and touching from shoulders to toes, Dean couldn’t help but go over his conversation with Ash.  He’d really thought they were up shit creek when he’d gotten that first letter informing him of his inclusion in the program.  He’d taken it straight over to the Roadhouse and upstairs to Ash’s apartment.  He hadn’t been as freaked out as Dean thought he’d be.  He told Dean to ignore it and he’d get him out of it somehow.  By the fourth letter and his little confrontation with Sam and then Charlie, he’d called Ash in a panic.  Ash had told him there was no getting out of it without causing suspicion, so they’d come up with a plan.  Of course, one look at the guy the Celestials sent him and Dean knew he couldn’t go through with it.  The Angel was gorgeous and mesmerizing and he saved Dean’s life!  How could he use the Angel Blade Ash had acquired last month to kill the guy who saved his life?  When he’d gone into the back office of the bar to talk to Ash this evening, he was expecting a reprimand, but the mullet head had surprised him.  Seems he had been just as uncomfortable with the idea of killing what could have been a completely innocent creature as Dean had been.  So, Dean outlined his new plan: introduce Castiel to the blinding power of physical pleasure and see if he could get himm on their side.  A living Angel firmly in their camp was worth a Hell of a lot more than a dead Angel that would draw the wrong kind of attention to them.  Their little rebellion was still in its infancy and Dean was more than a bit reluctant to be exposed this early in the game.  Ash had agreed with him and wished him luck with a pat on the back as he pushed him out the office door.  But there was one thing Dean hadn’t thought of.  He hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might start to develop feelings for the alien.  As he squeezed Castiel’s firm body closer to his own, Dean sighed deeply and wondered if this was going to ruin everything, if this was going to ruin _him_.


	2. Bring Me To Life (Evanescence)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to deal with Sam finding out about the rebellion while Castiel deals with his boss. They both have to deal with the feelings they're developing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Like I said before, I'm gonna try to keep this to three chapters, but something just occurred to me as I was editing this and I might add a chapter to explore that idea.

Bring Me to Life (Evanescence)

 

**_This discussion does not require a weapons discharge!_ **

           

“Well, while you’ve been playing with your pet alien, the real world has been out here falling apart!” Sam screamed back at Dean.

 

            “I haven’t been _playing_ with Cas and he isn’t my pet!” Dean spat back as he stepped up into Sam’s space, his chest bumping into his brother’s as they glared murderously at each other. “And if you remember, you’re the one who wanted me to do my _civic duty_!”  Dean had never wanted to punch Sam so bad as he did right now.  The second Sam brought Cas into this, Dean’s vision went red and a rushing sound filled his ears.

 

            “Your civic duty doesn’t include sleeping with the enemy!” Sam countered smugly.  Dean almost laughed at the missed opportunity to rhyme ‘Angel booty’ with ‘civic duty’.

 

            “Fellas, fellas!  Just…let’s just simmer down here, ‘k?  Yeesh!” Ash exclaimed as he separated two irate Winchesters, not an easy feat on his best day, much less when he was hungover and freaking out over what Sam had just told them.  “Now,” Dean let Ash push him away from Sam and the instant they separated, Sam sort of deflated, like he wasn’t really trying to fight Dean, just get his attention, “when am I gonna meet this other hacker, huh? I’m kinda jealous here, Dean-O,” Ash sighed and sank into his desk chair, a whiskey barrel he’d converted by chopping out the top and part of one side and filling it with cushions and folded blankets.  The rest of his furniture was similarly made, a mish-mash of reclaimed and altered garbage, like his kitchen table (a giant wooden spool once used to hold miles of tungsten wire at the local power plant).

 

            “That’s up to her,” Dean grumbled as he side-eyed Sam.  Sam nodded and sat on the spool-table (as Ash called it with a chuckle for his own cleverness) as Dean flopped into another chair made of chain link fencing and a quilt.  “I won’t even tell you her name, if that’s what she wants, but I need to talk to her first.”  Dean took a minute to wonder why Charlie had shared this new knowledge with Sam instead of him.  He couldn’t get too upset with her, though, seeing as how he’d been keeping a pretty big secret from her and his brother.  He’d never brought them in on what he and Ash (and Ellen and Jo and Jody and Rufus and an ever-growing number of people) had been doing for the last six months, mostly because he wanted to keep them safe, but still…he knew what Charlie and Sam would say about that and it wasn’t ‘Thank you’.

 

            “Why don’t you go do that, then,” Ash suggested, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he turned to his bank of glowing computer screens, “I’ve got work to do.”   Dean accepted Sam’s offered hand and let his brother pull him up to standing.  They left silently, abandoning Ash to swim through the underworld of the Dark Web, seeking more information and formulating secret plans with their compatriots across the globe.  He and Dean had joined the rebellion when it was but a fetus of an idea, their pessimistic natures leading them down the rabbit hole of conspiracy when the first alien ship appeared in the sky above Montana ten plus years ago.  Dean had been barely out of technical school and gearing up for Bobby’s semi-retirement, his whole life ahead of him, and the thought of alien invasion interrupting his plans was his biggest motivator in joining Ash.  Now, he worried not about whether he’d be allowed to continue running the shop and relaxing with his friends in his free time, but whether his entire race would be sold off wholesale to the highest bidder and forced into eternal servitude to some tentacled nightmare.  Now, he worried if their planet would be stripped of all its usable metals and liquid water and left to float through its lonely orbit a burnt-out shell for the rest of time.  With what Sam had just told them, it was looking more and more likely.

 

            He and Sam descended the outside stairs and stopped in the alley behind the Roadhouse, facing each other but not looking each other in the eye.  “I’m, um, I’m sorry I said those things about Cas,” Sam muttered, and Dean looked up at him, surprised at his easy capitulation, “I know it’s not like that with you two.  I just worry about you, ya know? I would hope he isn’t just…distracting you, but you have to be prepared for the possibility that that was why they sent him here.  Hell, Dean, he may not even know the truth!”

 

            “We don’t know if it’s true yet, Sam,” Dean mumbled at his shoes, but he knew, he _knew_ , deep down, that it was.  An alien race just happens to come along with the cure to every disease, an easy fix-it for the whole planet, _and_ an entirely altruistic wish to bring Mankind into the cosmic block party; it was all too good to be true.  If their dad had taught them anything, it was to never trust when things were going well, something always crops up to cut your legs out from under you.  John Winchester made sure his sons learned that lesson every day of their lives and how to prepare for the day when all that you loved was ripped from your grasp.  Dean was always his best student, but he knew now he could never close off his heart as their father had done.  No, Dean would never allow those he loved to be taken from him, even if he had to defy an entire highly-advanced alien race to keep them safe. 

 

            “Well, maybe you should talk to him about it, get his side of things, before…well, before Ash and Charlie gear up for war,” Sam put a warm hand on Dean’s shoulder as he passed by, “I like Cas, Dean, and I can see how good he is for you.  I honestly have never seen you so happy.”

 

            “Alright, alright!” Dean shrugged off his brother’s grip, “Enough with the chick-flick moment!  Look, I’ll talk to him,” Sam smiled at his brother in the way Dean knew meant ‘sure you will’, “I will! You know, we actually _do_ talk sometimes, Sam.  It’s not just killer blow jobs and mind-blowing sex 24/7.”

 

            “Ew, gross! Jesus, Dean!” Sam yelled as he power-walked out of the alley.

 

            “What, you don’t wanna hear about it?” Dean called after his brother’s retreating back, “You wouldn’t believe the way he can-“

 

            “STOP!! Just shut up, Jerk!”

 

            Dean laughed at Sam’s prudishness, not that he wanted to hear details about Sam’s (currently nonexistent) sex life, “Bye, Bitch!”  Sam flapped a hand at Dean as he turned a corner and disappeared.  Dean sauntered over to where he had Baby parked in the back lot of the bar and climbed in.  He sat there a long time, thinking about Castiel.  The last three months had been some of the best of his life, so, of course, the man he’d been able to find that happiness with would turn out to be nothing but a spy sent by the very people Dean and Ash had been trying to fight.  He had told Ash he would keep Castiel busy with sex, keep the Angel so lust-drunk he couldn’t suss out what Dean had actually been doing all these months.  It was natural for people to overlook Dean, assume he was just a dumb mechanic from Bumfuck, Kansas.  His good looks and friendly demeanor went a long way toward covering up a shrewd and clever mind.  Dean wondered if Castiel had even bothered to wonder if there was anything behind this rebellion, or if he thought they were all of bunch of ungrateful mud monkeys, too stupid and stubborn to let the all-powerful aliens decide what was best for them.  This thought, more than anything, had Dean’s blood boiling.  Thinking that Cas might consider him just a mission, just someone to be dealt with quickly so the rest of the Angels could steam roll over the planet, made Dean want to scream and punch something.  The ache in his hands brought Dean back to himself and he loosened his white-knuckle grip on Baby’s steering wheel with a muttered apology to his beloved car.  He turned the key in the ignition and headed for home.

 

 

 

            Hs house was dark and silent when he unlocked the door and stepped into the little entryway.  Dean sighed and dropped his keys in the dish, hanging his coat on the hook and toeing off his work boots.  He decided against calling for some delivery, thinking about the food in his fridge and overflowing the pantry.  He’d taken Castiel to the store almost a week ago, letting the Angel pick out anything he wanted to try and laughing through multiple explanations about the seven hundred different kinds of pasta that had Castiel sputtering his bafflement (But, _why_ , Dean? They are all composed of the _same_ molecules!).  They hadn’t taken much time to work their way through everything Dean had brought home, though, opting to get pizza or Chinese delivered instead because they were too busy working their way through each other to stop long enough to cook anything.  If Dean was going to be on his own tonight, he thought he better cook some of the food in the fridge to keep it from spoiling.  He stripped out of his work clothes and headed for the bathroom, mind filled with thoughts of hot water and steady pressure to ease the ache in his shoulders and back.  He about came out of his skin when a deep voice spoke up directly behind him as he bent to turn on the shower.

 

            “Hello, Dean,” Castiel said plainly and Dean absolutely _did not_ squeak in terror.  He whipped around, hands going automatically to cover his junk, to see the Angel sitting calmly on the toilet seat, trench coat and all, his hands clasped between his knees.

 

            “Jesus, Cas!  What the fuck are you doing!?  Why are you lurking in my bathroom!?” Dean yelled as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it violently around his hips.  Castiel stood up and walked over to him, head tilted in confusion.

 

            “I was not lurking, Dean.  I was merely trying to experience the process of waste elimination.  But I have neither the need nor the capacity for such, so I decided to behave as though I did.  I thought this would be an acceptable analogue.  You sometimes spend roughly twenty minutes eliminating solid waste in this manner,” Castiel looked Dean up and down, “Are you hurt? Why are you angry? Why are you scared?”

 

            Dean scoffed and backed up a step, trying to gloss over his rapidly beating heart with false bravado, “I’m not scared! And I’m angry because you…you…why would you…do you mean you were pretending…to…poop?” This had to be one of the weirdest conversations in a long three months of truly bizarre conversations and Dean was definitely not wearing enough clothes for this discussion.

 

            “I believe that is what you have called it on occasion.  And you _were_ scared, Dean, I felt it.  Did you forget we are Bonded? I feel all your strong emotions.  Now, for instance, you are a combination of annoyed, disgusted, and,” Castiel took another step toward Dean, shedding his coat in the process, “aroused.  The arousal is beginning to overpower everything else.” Castiel pulled off his suit jacket, letting everything settle to the floor at his feet.  “Do you enjoy watching me disrobe? Or is it the difference in our states of dress?” Castiel flicked out a finger and the towel was ripped from Dean’s hips, leaving him completely nude as Castiel backed him up against the wall of the bathroom, “Perhaps it is my voice, you seemed to greatly enjoy the sound of it last night, when I spoke to you in my language. You achieved orgasm rather swiftly.” Castiel braced a hand against the wall, his other hand tracing incomprehensible shapes around Dean’s left nipple.  Dean gulped air in huge, desperate gasps, struggling mightily to hold onto why this was a bad idea, why he needed to talk to Castiel.  Wasn’t there something he needed to ask the Angel, something important he needed to know?

 

            “Cas…we gotta…I…I have to…oh fuck,” Dean gave up and let the groan building in his chest escape as Castiel fitted his mouth over Dean’s, his hot breath filling the space between them an instant before his tongue invaded Dean’s mouth.  The Angel swallowed Dean’s moans and palmed his hips, bringing them forward to grind against his own.  At the feeling of skin on skin, Dean opened eyes he didn’t remember closing to look down between them, where he could see Castiel had mojo’d away his own clothes, leaving them both naked.  Cas’ hard cock butted up against Dean’s and Dean groaned deeply, letting his head fall back to thump into the wall as jolts of electric pleasure shot through him.  Castiel’s eyes glowed Grace-blue briefly and suddenly they were on the bed, Dean on his back with Castiel straddling his hips.  Castiel sat up, his bare ass rocking against Dean’s straining erection, his cock bobbing up to slap wetly on his flat stomach as he smiled down at Dean.

 

            “I completed my report early and wished to wait for your return.  Was I wrong to think you may wish to continue my lessons on Human carnality?” Castiel asked lowly as his fingers gripped the skin over Dean’s ribs.

 

            Dean huffed a soft laugh and let his hands wonder up Cas’ thick thighs to rub circles into his sharp hip bones, “No, you weren’t wrong…obviously.”  Dean swallowed roughly over the lump in his throat.  Seeing Cas like this, all playful glinting eyes and so, so damn sexy, all for Dean, made what he had to ask the Angel all the more painful.  Despite the delicious friction of his dick rubbing between Cas’ firm cheeks, he started to soften at the thought of the answers he might get from Castiel, or that he might not get any answers at all.  Maybe Cas would be offended or hurt by what Dean had to say.  Maybe he would fly away and Dean would never see him again.  Worse yet, maybe he would lie and Dean would have to make a choice he absolutely did not want to make.  “But, uh, Cas…we need to talk.”

 

            Castiel smiled, clearly not experienced enough in the ways of humans to understand what Dean meant, “I greatly enjoy when we speak, Dean.  I especially like when you tell me what you would like to do to me in the current parlance of your people.  Your voice is very arousing when you do that.” Castiel bent down, intending to kiss Dean and begin their sexual encounter immediately, but Dean pulled his face away, clearing his throat and putting his hands on Castiel’s chest to hold him back.  Castiel’s brows came together in confused disappointment and he instantly backed off.  He felt shame wash over him and he was unsure if it was his own or emanated from Dean.

 

            “No, no, man, that isn’t…that’s not what I meant,” Dean sighed and gently moved Castiel off of his lap, sitting up so they were eye-to-eye.  It was important to him that Castiel face him as an equal.  Dean looked down at himself, wishing they weren’t naked for this but worried he’d chicken out if he took the time to get dressed.  “It isn’t…you didn’t do anything wrong, Cas…At least, I don’t think…I hope it isn’t like…shit,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face.  This was not going how he envisioned it and his rambling nonsense was doing nothing to wipe the hurt look off Castiel’s face or loosen the tense line of his body as it folded in on itself and away from Dean.  Alright, time for a reset.  “Look, I have to ask you some questions and I need honest answers from you.  This might go a little easier, for me, at least, if I get some clothes on-“ With a snap of Cas’ fingers, Dean was in a pair of sweat and a t shirt, “Uh, you too, buddy.” Castiel was dressed between one blink and the next, “Okay, let’s, uh, let’s go out to the living room,” Dean ducked his head and scooted off the bed, avoiding eye contact with Castiel and hating himself for being so weak.

 

            Castiel followed close behind until they reached the front room.  Dean almost sat on the couch but veered over to the single chair instead, still wanting to look at Castiel when he asked what he had to ask.  Castiel sighed and perched on the edge of the couch, hands loose on his knees.  Dean could tell he was trying to keep his face open and expectant, but worry etched a line between his brows, anyway.  After a few moments of tense silence, Castiel opened his mouth, closing it quickly and darting his eyes down to the floor before starting again, “You, you said you wanted honest answers and I must tell you, I have only ever been honest with you, Dean.  I have never deceived you in any way, I would not even know how to…please…proceed.”  Castiel took a deep breath and looked up at Dean, steeling himself like he was facing a firing squad.  Dean couldn’t help the flash of strange pride at the sight of Castiel making a real effort to appear more human.  He’d come a long way from the creepily still and stiff alien Dean had first encountered.  Castiel had finally learned how to emote, enough to convey what he was thinking and feeling, and Dean couldn’t be prouder.

 

            “Okay, okay, Cas.  First things first; why are you here?” Castiel opened his mouth to answer but stopped when Dean held up a hand, “I don’t mean the standard ‘improve human/Angel relations’ tag line that I hear on the news every single day, Cas.  I want to hear why _you’re_ here, what your goal is, your endgame. And tell me the truth, don’t hold back.”  Now, Dean took a deep breath and waited, trying to tamp down any expectations he had that Castiel would basically tell him to fuck off and just disappear, trying to have faith that the feelings he had been developing these last months weren’t one-sided.

 

            Castiel’s face slipped back into alien-robot mode as he gave Dean’s question serious thought.  When he finally spoke, he didn’t look Dean in the eye at first, “I…when I was told I would be included in the numbers to be sent to the surface, I thought that I could not possibly complete this mission as it was intended, that I could never understand your species as my superiors did.  I thought, I am just a Seraph, what do I know of aliens?  I did not think I would find…I did not expect to get…” Castiel looked back up at Dean, his eyes red rimmed and tight, “…to lose myself…to lose myself in you.  We were told to immerse ourselves in our charge’s culture, to give in to assimilation, to learn what motivates humanity.  That was our stated goal, but I lost sight of that so quickly.  I lost sight of the mission when all I could think of was you, being close to you, learning everything from you and I suppose that, technically, I adhered to the mission parameters, but…somehow I did not because…I feel…I feel something,” Castiel looked down at his own chest, smoothing a hand over his sternum, “here…when I look at you, when you touch me, when I taste your breath and feel your skin break into a sweat where it is pressed against my own.  Somewhere along the way…I lost my way…I have…I am Fallen,” Castiel was barely audible, his voice gone soft and disbelieving, “I do not…I do not know what to do.  I am not this…thing, this base thing that craves sensation and feels…so much for another individual being.  I was designed to follow orders, I am a soldier, yet…I am more than that, with you…and I do not know how to reconcile these opposing forces within my own mind,” Castiel looked beseechingly up at Dean, his hands trembling, “I was supposed to go back with news of your acquiescence in the plan to improve your species and that is what I reported, but, Dean…I do not believe your species _needs_ improvement…now, I…think you are all so…perfect…just as you are.”

 

            Dean’s heart beat had been speeding up as Castiel spoke, his breath catching at the passion and reverence of the Angel’s words, “Cas, I-“

 

            Castiel stood abruptly, his hands clasped together, wringing over each other ceaselessly, “Please, Dean! Please do not…do not send me away…I need…I must…please do not…I will…” Dean stood up, hands going out to Cas’ to stop their nervous movement.  Castiel’s eyes met Dean’s, tears overflowing their banks to streak down his cheeks, “Please,” the Angel breathed.  Dean’s heart broke and he followed it, pulling Castiel into his arms, hands smoothing down his back and through his hair endlessly.  Castiel clung to Dean and buried his face in the human’s neck, trying to control the storm of emotions that roiled under his skin, making his body shake with the force.  A high, reedy whimper escaped his lips and he planted his mouth on Dean’s skin to keep in any more sounds.

 

            Dean held the trembling alien and wracked his brain for what might be happening with Castiel.  Was is possible that their race didn’t know what love was?  How could that be?  Castiel clearly was capable of feeling love, but he didn’t have any idea that that was what he was feeling, he didn’t even have a word for it.  Dean pulled back enough to frame Castiel’s face in his hands, “Cas, do you…are you in love with me?” he asked softly, eyes searching Castiel’s face.

 

            Castiel stilled suddenly, turning not to stone in Dean’s arms, but something softer.  His vessel’s physical settings returned to normal, breathing evened out, no more tears wet his cheeks, little hitched sobs stopped.  Dean stood there a long moment, waiting for a response or more crying or…something, but nothing came.  He pushed back slightly to look at Cas’ face, which stayed immobile, like he was sleeping standing up.  His hands, loose around Dean’s waist let the human go, but remained suspended in mid-air.  “Cas?” Dean asked, barely above a whisper.  Dean didn’t need an answer from the silent body to know Castiel was no longer there, absent from his vessel like he’d just stepped out the front door of the house.  It wasn’t something Dean could explain, but any other human would understand, that feeling of being suddenly and completely alone in a space, the absence of another person almost a tangible thing.  “Huh,” Dean muttered as he backed up further to study Castiel’s vessel as it remained in the same position.  This had only ever happened one other time.  When Castiel’s eyes had opened a half hour later, he had haltingly explained that because he still derived some power from the Host (his word for his people’s ship), he was subject to their call, which could pull him from his vessel if not answered promptly.  He must have been ignoring a call from his ship while he and Dean talked.  Dean left him standing there while he made a phone call of his own.

 

**_It’s funnier in Enochian._ **

****

How to explain the call of the Host?  That is somewhat difficult for me.  There are so many things about my people that have no correlative in any of your languages.  The most equivalent would be the sensation of a pulling, right here, in the middle of the body, as if from deep within it.  There is also a simultaneous auditory summons, but more of a telepathic call, which I heard through my Grace.  My Grace?  That is the entirety of myself.  What you would call a soul, but more than that.  It is also my corporeal form when I am with the Host, as corporeal as any of us are.  It is also my base power source, but I can and have derived power from the Host itself, a human soul, or the transference of emotional energy.  Yes, I am referring to sexual intercourse.  No, not like that.  It is more of an exchange, between my Grace and a soul.  I mention it separately because the one time I derived power from a human soul directly, it was an emergency situation and not altogether…consensual?  Yes, but later.  Where was I?  Oh, yes, the Host.  It is more than just our ship, as our ship is merely a manifestation of our collective will on this plane of existence.  It is our home.  Very few have been able to survive outside it for any length of time.  Only two I know of.  Yes, one of them was Gabriel.  No, I had yet to meet him at that point.  I was not aware, but that sounds very much like my brother.  May I continue?

 

            As I informed Dean, I was required to make weekly reports to my superiors.  Of my own volition, I could return to the Host by exiting my vessel, leaving it in a safe place.  The first time, on the East face of Mount Kilimanjaro, in a deep crevice in the rock wall.  After Dean and I…strengthened our Bond, he bid me leave my vessel in his abode.  He promised most seriously not to disturb it in any inappropriate way.  The Host was also able to call me from my vessel, forcing me from it and leaving me no choice but to return home or face a critical power drain.  None of us can exist on the surface of your planet without a vessel and finding another vessel capable of containing my Grace would have required an immense quantity of power, besides the fact that it would be unethical to simply take an occupied body for my own use.  It is simply not done.  If I were to find a human body capable of sustaining me?  Permission must be granted and even then, it would not be advisable for long.  It would be difficult for a human to recover after and they could very well die once the Celestial vacated the vessel.  Hence, the manufactured vessels.

 

I did not even feel the summons of the Host while I was talking with Dean that day.  I only felt the final tug, as Dean was asking me a question and I was attempting to make some sense of it, and then I was in the White Room.  I opened my eyes to find I was not alone.  There were three other Seraphs seated in chairs; Inias, Samandriel, and Hannah, all of us around a table, facing Naomi.  I had never met her, myself, but I had heard many things about her, none of them good.  She spoke before I could become too nervous.  She informed us that we were all assigned to humans suspected of collusion with the brewing rebellion on the surface, a movement that had begun to cause us some problems.  Their anti-Celestial efforts had begun to produce fruit, sowing distrust and anger in the general population.  This, in turn, was manifesting as a reluctance on the part of their elected leaders to adhere to our plan for the planet.  We were instructed to obtain proof of our charges’ involvement with the rebellion and bring it to our next scheduled report.  She then left us, an abrupt departure that spawned a palpable release of tension in the room. 

 

As I let myself relax, the other Seraphs began speaking to each other.  From Inias, I learned that his charge, a woman named Donna Hanscum, was not capable of such deception.  He worried that if he could not produce this proof that Naomi was convinced existed, he would be extracted permanently.  He did not want to leave his post or his charge.  He explained that he had learned much from the human and was not ready to leave her, especially as he worried for her mental health if he were to leave.  Samandriel had been assigned to a human named Eileen Leahy, a deaf cleaning woman with a strange sense of humor, who had made much use of his telepathic communication abilities but refused to call him by his name.  She was more comfortable calling him ‘Alfie’, saying he reminded her of her first boyfriend by the same name.  Samandriel also believed his charge incapable of participating in the rebellion and wished to remain with her on Earth.  Hannah admonished us all to remember who (and what) we were, telling us our loyalty lay with our people, not the humans.  Her charge, a profoundly paranoid man named Frank Devereaux, had not taken as well to his new Bond as some of the other humans.  Hannah confessed to being shunted aside, as though she were an inconvenient piece of furniture.  He told Hannah nothing of any consequence and frequently questioned her for hours.  She seemed to believe her charge fully capable of not only being in the rebellion, but possibly leading it and she intended to get the truth from him as soon as she returned.  She was the first of us to go back after our meeting with Naomi.  The other two Seraphs and I agreed to keep in contact and update each other before reporting anything to Naomi.

 

My return to Earth, to Dean, was to a dark house.  I reentered my vessel in a flash of bright light and had to give myself some time to adjust.  Dean was no longer in the room, and I realized I was sitting on his couch.  I took a moment to contemplate our earlier conversation and the information from the meeting with Naomi.  Dean had asked me if I loved him.  I had never thought on the subject.  I only knew that the way I felt about him was an entirely new experience in my long life.  Never before had I craved the proximity of another being.  If he decided never to touch me again, I would still wish to stay by his side.  I wished only to be near him, at all hours and in any circumstance.  I could feel my loyalty had shifted, my concern for the grand endeavor of my people seemed to pale in comparison to how I felt about Dean.  I believed him to be a superlative example of his race, the very best of what human beings could become.  If this was the love of which he spoke, then I could truthfully answer him yes, I was most certainly in love with him.  The question remained, however, was he in love with me?

 

**_Do these tacos taste funny to you?_ **

****

            Dean woke with a groan.  He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes to a dark room.  His stomach cramped again and he scrambled to get out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering with the light.  As many times as he had made this trip tonight, he knew the way to the toilet by heart.  At this point, there was nothing left to throw up, but he thought better than to take the chance.  As he hugged the throne and tried to will away the dry heaves that wracked his body, a cold sweat broke out down his back and he wondered if the other end was going to start giving him trouble.  He really regretted the decision to eat the tacos he had concocted from the questionable ground beef in his fridge.

 

            “Dean? You are sick,” Castiel’s voice, soft in deference to the hour and situation, reached him as Dean wiped at his spit-slick mouth and shivered hard.

 

            “Nah, just thought I’d worship at the porcelain altar at three a.m. for my own piece of mind, ya know?”

 

            “This is a very strange religious observance, Dean.”

 

            “Yeah, so’s Easter.”

 

            “I am concerned you are masking a real illness with inappropriate humor.  May I?”

 

            Dean cracked his eyes open to see two of Castiel’s fingers reaching out of the darkness toward his forehead.  He’d seen the power the Angel could wield when Garth had split open the side of his hand on a tire iron at the shop last week.  What would have definitely been a frantic rush to the ER and probably three weeks or more off work for Garth had turned into a light touch to his forehead and a thin, pink line in his skin.  Dean closed his eyes and let Cas take all his pain away.  When the rush of cool Grace was done sweeping through him, Dean sighed in relief and let Castiel pull him up off the bathroom floor.

 

            “You should not have eaten that food, it was unsuitable for human consumption.”

 

            “No shit, Sherlock,” Dean groused as he hunched over the sink, brushing his teeth in the dark.  “So, where’d you go?” he asked after he’d rinsed his mouth.

 

            Castiel watched Dean rinse out his toothbrush and throw it back in its cup.  He turned around to face Castiel, their bodies mere inches apart, and Castiel felt a jolt of lust rocket through him at the nearness of his human.  And it was then he realized, he thought of Dean as his, not just his charge, not just his Bond mate, but really and wholly _his_.  He wanted nothing more than to be _Dean’s_ in return.  “I…I was…home, I was called away by the Host. Did you…move my vessel?”

 

            “Hmm,” Dean pursed his lips and nodded, folding his thick arms over his chest and giving Castiel a critical look, “The Cowboys were playing, so, ya know…and you were right in front of the screen!”  Castiel got a quick picture of Dean, sitting next to his vessel, holding its hand.  The truth of the matter (a secret Dean Winchester would take to the grave) was that he had carried Cas’ vessel over to the couch, setting it down gently.  He had started out holding its hand but had quickly progressed to full-on cuddling with it.  He was surprised how reassuring it was to have it there.  Castiel had to return for it sometime, right?  He seemed to decide something but was keeping his emotions on a tight leash, only a small amount of doubt and mild lust leaked out from the walls he’d erected.  “Anything exciting going on?”

 

            Castiel sighed and looked down to the floor.  Here was the moment, the moment when he would have to make the only choice left to him.  He could easily lie to Dean and do what Naomi had told them, try to find proof of Dean’s involvement with the rebellion.  Or…he could tell Dean of his people’s suspicions and give the humans warning of what was to come, but to do so would be to Fall completely.  He would be able to keep up a façade of capitulation with his people for a time, but eventually, he would be cut off from the Host and be left to fend for himself on an alien planet, hunted by his own as a traitor.  Castiel looked at Dean in the dim light filtering into the small bathroom.  His hair looked brown, his eyes black, his skin a pale luminescence in the weak moonlight.  He looked small and fragile here in his thin t shirt and loose underwear, so tiny and…human.  But his soul shone like a star, so bright Castiel had a difficult time looking at it full-on, its rose-gold eddies shifting around the edges sinuously, and he knew it was already too late.  He was already lost to this human and there was really no other choice to be made.  He wasn’t even worried that Dean may not feel the same toward him.  If he could help Dean, maybe he could stay, and that would be enough.  Castiel stepped up to close the small distance between them.  He felt Dean’s desire like a caress as it stroked along his neck and over his lips.  A shuddery sigh escaped him and he gently placed his hands on Dean’s hips, looking up into his eyes, “Show me one more thing.” Dean inhaled sharply, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes locked on Castiel’s, “Teach me about love.”

 

**_I’m hunted, I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you._ **

****

            Walking away from everything you have ever known is nearly impossible.  You see, everything that makes you _you,_ is tied so closely to where you come from, what formed you into what you became.  Events in the present do not change what came before, just as events in the future do not alter the here and now.  Dean understood this, he understood so much that I did not.  I wonder now how we did the things we did, how we accomplished so much, when so many opposed us, even ourselves at times.  Leaving the past behind is not a realistic goal because you carry your past inside you, always.  As Sam once asked me, how can you escape what’s inside you?  I did not have an answer then, but I do now.  The answer, of course, is…you don’t.

     

**_I wanted you to know, that when I do picture myself happy, it’s with you._ **

****

            If Sam Winchester had known his older brother had fallen in love with Castiel, and that Castiel reciprocated those feelings, he would have given the Angel one very important piece of advice: Don’t pay attention to what Dean _says_ , pay attention to what he _does._ In the case of Dean and heavy emotions, it had always been better to expect a solid punch to the shoulder instead of an ‘I’m proud of you’.  He would rather fix your car for free than tell you how important you were to him.  And in this instance, where a normal person’s response would have been to tell the beautiful Angel they loved him back, Dean told Castiel he loved him in the only way he knew how: with his actions.

 

            Dean surged forward, hands going instantly to Cas’ jaw to hold him steady, lips locking onto the Angel’s mouth, tongue delving in to plunder Cas’ mouth.  He rocked his hips up and slammed Castiel backwards, pushing him into the open door, which rattled loudly against the bathroom wall.  As soon as he felt the Angel go pliant under him, Dean shifted his grip to Cas’ waist, dragging him back through the door way and down the hall, the pair ping-ponging off the walls as they made their way to the bedroom.  Dean pushed the door open with his ass as he grappled with the stupidly long trench coat, finally succeeding in shoving it off Castiel’s shoulders and down his arms without breaking the kiss.  Castiel, ever the good student, pushed Dean’s shirt up to his neck, whining deep in his throat when Dean pulled his mouth away to get the shirt over his head.  Castiel raised his hand, fingers poised to snap, when Dean grabbed his hand, smiling wickedly at him, “Nuh uh, baby, you wanted to learn, you’re gonna learn the right way,” he purred.  His hand released Cas’ and both flew to the buttons on Castiel’s shirt, scrambling madly to work each button through its hole, Dean from the top and Castiel from the bottom once he’d tugged the shirt tails out of his pants.  Working together, they soon had Cas’ shirt and tie off and Dean pulled the Angel to him, a groan of pleasure punching out of his gut at the feel of Castiel’s hot skin colliding with his own.

 

            Castiel’s hands slid under the waistband of his old boxers and Dean wiggled his ass to get the Angel to push them down while he made quick work of the complex belt and slacks keeping him from seeing Cas naked.  Dean let out a whoop of triumph as he accomplished his goal, giving the slacks a little push to get them down, only a split second before Castiel got the hint and pushed Dean’s own underwear down.  Cas’ pants had dragged his boxers down halfway, the head of his cock peeking out the waistband and Dean sunk gratefully to his knees.  He quickly licked at the head of Castiel’s cock where it was trapped by the elastic and leaking onto the soft hair of his stomach.  Castiel gasped and jerked, his hands instinctively going to Dean’s shoulders, whether to push him off or pull him closer, Cas didn’t know.  Dean chuckled breathily and pulled Cas’ boxers down the rest of the way, letting his cock bounce free in front of Dean’s face.  He ignored its insistent wagging in favor of divesting Castiel of his polyester shackles, holding his socks so the Angel could step out of the whole works in one go, then pushing everything back out of their way.  Dean sighed happily and sat back on his heels, giving Castiel’s dick a loose stroke before smiling up at Castiel, who watched with dark eyes, his mouth hanging open on a long, low groan at the sight of Dean on his knees.

 

            Dean held Castiel’s cock steady at the base, the Angel’s pulse pounding against his palm, and licked the slit and all around the crown, eyes never leaving Cas’.  Castiel growled and Dean had to shut his eyes briefly at the surge of hot _want_ that exploded through his groin at the sound.  They had done so much together, hand jobs, blow jobs, rutting against each other’s legs or cocks until they both blew hard, fingers prying and stroking, discovering that spot inside that lit up the whole world, but none of that compared to this.  Dean’s heart was racing, his dick so hard it hurt and he couldn’t get enough air, but more than that, he couldn’t get enough of _Cas_.  He wanted Cas all over him, inside him, surrounding him, he wanted to melt into him.  He wanted to be joined for all eternity and he couldn’t see this going any other way.  Whether Castiel was thinking the same thing or just picking up on Dean’s emotions again, the Angel was fully on board for that plan.

 

            “Yes…oh, yes, Dean, I want…I want…” Dean opened his throat like they’d been practicing and took Castiel down to the root, “ah…ah…ungh…Please…please, Dean, I want…”

 

            Dean came off with an obscene slurp, his voice already wrecked, “Tell me, baby, tell me what you want.” He teased the head of Castiel’s cock, giving his own dick a rough stroke to quiet its blatant cries for help, while he waited for Cas to get the words out.

 

            “I-I…I want…I want you to…to penetrate me…”

 

            Dean stopped all movement.  That was not what he’d been expecting but he had to grab the base of his own dick to keep from shooting all over the carpet as Castiel’s request sunk into his lust-drunk brain, “Fuck, baby…yeah…okay, yeah…we can do that,” Dean stood as quickly as his middle-aged body would let him and captured Castiel’s panting mouth in a searing kiss.  “We can definitely do that,” he growled into Castiel’s mouth.  He turned the Angel and walked him backward to the bed, giving him a little shove to get him to separate from the kiss and Dean’s touch and sit on the bed.  “Scoot up there, baby, get comfortable.”

 

            Castiel scrambled backward and stopped when his head hit the pillow.  Dean turned to grab the new bottle of lube he’d bought at the store.  This definitely called for a fresh bottle.  He almost slammed into his dresser in his haste, yanking open the top drawer and shuffling past ragged copies of Busty Asian Beauties and batteries and an old belt and where was the damn lube!?  His head whipped around at a whimper from Castiel.  The Angel was splayed out on his bed, legs wide, one hand rolling his balls gently while the other stroked his dark cock, “Cas! Stop! Hands off!”

 

            Castiel let out a high whine but took his hands away, fisting the sheets on either side of his hips, “But you said…you said, Dean!  You said get comfortable!”

 

            “Yeah, get comfortable, not get off,” Dean groused as he moved on to the second drawer.

 

            “My erection is so hard!  It is very _un_ comfortable!” Castiel cried.

 

            Dean huffed a laugh at his Angel, always so literal!  As he made to turn back to Castiel, a flash of purple caught his eye and he cried in triumph as he snatched the toppled bottle of lube off the top of his dresser, “Ha! Got it!”  Castiel sobbed in relief and reached for Dean as he knee-walked up from the foot of the bed.  He stopped to give Castiel a quick but filthy kiss before shoving the Angel back down to the pillows.  He cracked the safety label and squeezed the bottle too hard, splashing cold lube all over his right hand and across Castiel’s stomach.  He couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that burst out of his mouth but stopped when he got a look at Castiel’s face, and hoo, boy, if looks could kill he’d be a dead man!

 

            “Dean,” Castiel growled.  Dean smiled and bent down to kiss the Angel’s aggravation away.  He slipped his hand up between Cas’ cheeks and smeared the lube across his hole, drawing a hissed moan out of the Angel.  Dean only had one finger inside before Castiel was demanding he get his cock inside him immediately.

 

            “Told ya, baby, we’re doing this my way.  No cheating, so you keep that Grace to yourself,” This wouldn’t be the first time Cas had used his Grace to…smooth the way, so to speak, when he got impatient.  “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Dean crooned as he compromised and added another finger a little sooner than was advisable.

 

            “Dean Winchester!  I am a Seraph of the Celestial! You could not hurt me if you _tried_!” And goddamn, if Cas’ all-powerful alien voice wasn’t _doing_ things to Dean.

 

            “Alright, alright!  Jeez,” Dean laughed, slipping a third finger inside and digging for that one spot, a place he now knew well how to locate. His index finger grazed the tight bundle of nerves and Castiel’s back bowed off the bed, “Mmm, that’s it, baby, there ya go.”  He stroked the spot again and Cas let out a grunt that sounded gut-punched as Dean backed off and tented his fingers, fucking them in and out fast while he still could.  Castiel let his head roll toward Dean, his eyes wild and his cheeks a hectic red.

 

            “De-an…now…please…just…now… _Dean_!”

 

**_If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear?_ **

 

            I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking what transpired between Dean and I was simple, base sexual gratification.  You are thinking that no modern person would attach such significance to a carnal act meant to give pleasure to two or more parties.  You are thinking that sexual intercourse signifies nothing beyond the desire for physical intimacy, a primary motivator of corporeal beings evolved in a binaural mating system.  And you would be correct.  Most of the time.  But sometimes, sexual congress does signify. Sometimes, the act of giving over control of one’s physical nature, one’s only link to the material plane, is a sign of complete and total trust.  Sometimes, sex can be love.

 

**_I get all tingly when you take control like that._ **

****

            “Okay, okay, baby, shhh…I got ya…” Dean whispered shakily as he shoved his knees under Castiel’s hips, tilting his pelvis up, and lined the tip of his cock up with Cas’ hole.  He grabbed the lube and squirted a much more controlled amount down his length, rubbing what was left on his hand on the underneath side.  This was the part that was new to them, this was the part that _mattered_.  He’d had anal with a few of the women he’d dated, but none of them seemed to enjoy it over much so he’d lost a taste for it over the years.  It was impossible for him to enjoy anything if he was constantly worried that his partner wasn’t happy or was just going through the motions to please him.  Castiel was his first guy-well, male lover, and so far, he seemed _really_ into this.  Dean tamped down his doubts that he could make this good for the Angel, focusing instead on watching Castiel’s face closely for any signs of discomfort as he nudged, nudged, then _pushed_ slowly but surely inside.  Cas was trying to see where they were about to be joined but when Dean’s cock popped past the first tight ring of muscle, the Angel let his head flop back to the pillow with a guttural groan of pure bliss.  Dean smiled and did a mental fist pump.  Castiel raised his head and locked eyes with Dean as the human began the rocking hip motion that would let him go a little deeper with each tiny thrust.  Every time he pushed in, Cas gasped.  Every drag back out, Cas groaned in disappointment.  About halfway there and Dean couldn’t resist, he took Castiel’s lips in a soft, slick slide that could barely be called a kiss but served well as a distraction, for both of them.  Cas was impossibly tight and hot, almost uncomfortably hot, like lava, and with no latex barrier between them (I could no more contract a disease from you than I could become pregnant, Dean. _Wait, you can’t…can you?_   No, Dean, I cannot bear your children), Dean felt every ridge, every ripple, every velvety fold inside.

 

            Finally, Dean felt the plush swell of Castiel’s ass brush against his balls where they were already tight to his body.  As deep as he could get, Dean paused to give them both time to adjust.  Cas broke their semi-kiss to gaze up at Dean, eyes full to the brim with so much adoration, wonder, love; Dean almost couldn’t stand it.  If Castiel had said one word of what his eyes were saying, Dean would have looked away and broken their connection, but as it stood, the two stared into each other’s eyes and spoke everything that needed to be said.  So lost was he that Dean almost missed the way Cas began to soften from lack of stimulation.  Smiling, Dean reached between them, hand wrapping around Castiel’s dick, and began stroking him firmly in time with his long but slow thrusts.

 

            “Oh-h-h-h…oh…De-Dean…oh…wow…” Dean chuckled at Castiel’s face, so pleasantly shocked.

 

            “’S’good, huh?” Dean asked lowly, tongue flicking out along Castiel’s jawline, “Mmm, damn, baby, feels so good inside you…fuck, you’re so perfect…so tight…wrapped around my cock…you like that?” Castiel nodded frantically, nearly beyond words, overwhelmed by Dean on all sides, his cock gliding in and out, brushing Castiel’s prostate on every other thrust, his rough hand tugging on Castiel’s dick, sending electricity shooting along Cas’ spine, his wicked tongue darting out to taste Castiel’s skin, his lips, his scattered chest hair, and his clever voice, surrounding Castiel in filth and love and praise, all at the same time.  It was too much, it was not enough.  It was everything.

 

            Castiel dug his short nails into Dean’s ass as he picked up the pace, his own orgasm rising up despite his urgent mental acrobatics to keep it at bay.  Normally, he didn’t talk a lot during sex.  It always made him feel stupid to say those things to whatever one-night-stand he was banging, or even his infrequent girlfriends, like they wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye afterward or, even worse, they might laugh at him during.  But with Castiel, right here, right now, he couldn’t have stopped the stream of loving smut that poured out of his mouth if he’d tried.  Dean reared up, adjusting their position so his mouth wasn’t tempted to keep licking and kissing Castiel, so he could have free reign to say everything he wanted to say.

 

            Dean gripped the backs of Castiel’s knees, pushing them back and out so he could get deeper.  Cas threw his head back and howled, as Dean pounded straight into his prostate at a new angle.  “Yeah, baby, fuck yeah…touch yourself…stroke your cock for me, baby, I wanna see…let me watch you…like that…oh fuck, so hot, Cas…so fucking hot…you dirty Angel…love having my cock in your ass…need it, dontcha?  Goddamn, Cas, love fucking your tight ass, so perfect…feels so fucking good…I’m gonna come inside…fill your sweet little ass up…you want that, want me to fill you up?  Wanna feel me shoot so hard inside you?  Yeah, I knew it, knew you’d like this…you gonna come?  Come on, baby, feel that thick cock splitting you open…feel me pounding you so hard…like this?  Faster?  You want faster?  Oh fuck yes, baby…fuck…feels so fucking perfect…gonna make me come…love it, dontcha?  Yeah…fuck…love…love you…love you, Cas…oh, _fuck_ I love you…Cas… _Castiel_!” Dean’s orgasm slammed into him, shockwaves of hot bliss rocked him as he grunted and shoved as far into Cas as he could go, hips stuttering out as he unloaded inside his Angel.  Castiel gripped his cock hard and rose up in an arc under Dean, spurting thick lines of come up his chest and over his own head as a high-pitched ringing sound burst from his throat.  It just went on and on, building and building, a warbling thin sound that strengthened and deepened as a blue-white glow shot out of Castiel’s eyes, his mouth, his ass, and Dean clutched the Angel to his chest, face buried in Castiel’s stomach as the alien rode out his orgasm or nuclear explosion, Dean didn’t even try to figure it out, he just held on and hoped to survive it.

 

**_Just when you think you do understand, it’ll turn out you were wrong.  You didn’t understand anything at all._ **

****

            Human beings…you are such…complex creatures.  You have an entire universe inside you, yet you routinely claim to be ‘bored’.  You are capable of creating an entirely new life, with just two members of your species.  This is not a power even the most advanced races can boast, yet you treat it as wantonly as any other bodily function.  I will never fully understand you, no matter how many of you I meet or how deep my relationships become with individuals of your species.  I certainly never understood Dean, though I loved him like no other.  His continued existence and well-being mattered even more than my own.  Self-preservation is a difficult instinct to overcome.  But overcome it I did, and it has made all the difference.

 

**_You can either roll over and die,_ ** **or _you can keep fighting no matter what._**

****

            “I seriously hate you right now.”

 

            “Charlie, come on, don’t-“

 

            “Don’t speak to me,” Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Charlie glared at him and his mouth shut with a snap.  Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and gripping the steering wheel tightly.  Dean stood outside her car and let his head fall back to look at the stars.  They seemed a little brighter tonight, a little closer, but, then again, everything did.  “Okay,” Charlie said quietly as she climbed out of her car, “take me to your rebel leaders.”

 

            “Wait, you’re sure?” Now that she had agreed, Dean’s worries that she would be hurt resurfaced, bringing back all his doubts about including her and Sam (or anyone else he loved) into this insanity. 

 

            “Dude! You’re involved in a _rebellion_ against potentially evil alien overlords!  Have you _met_ me?!” Charlie pointed at her Star Wars: The Force Awakens t shirt and scoffed at Dean’s guilty shrug.  “Come on.”  She took his arm and dragged him toward the darkened bar.

 

            Once inside, Charlie made a beeline for the bar, plunking herself down on a stool and smiling winningly at Ellen.  Ellen glanced up at Dean curiously before taking Charlie’s offered hand, “Charlie Bradbury,” his friend said brightly.

 

            “Ellen Harvelle…Dean, can we get started now or do you have any more surprise guests to spring on us?”

 

            Dean rolled his eyes as he leaned on the bar top, reaching for a glass.  Ellen swatted at his hand then smacked him upside the head and he sighed in defeat and backed up while she drew him a beer from the tap, “Only one more, but that’s for later.”  Dean ignored the looks Charlie and Ellen gave him and took his beer back to what used to be a banquet room but what Sam and Ash had dubbed ‘the War Room’, “Come on, Red, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the idiots.”

 

            Dean got Charlie introduced around to anyone she didn’t know, letting Ash do the introductions of the three people he’d brought.  There was an angry-looking black guy, a pretty brunette with a weird accent, and an older fat guy in horn-rimmed glasses who refused to shake Dean’s hand.  Dean brought the brunette over to meet Sam because he could see his brother trying (and failing) to not be so obvious as he checked her out.  He left the two talking in sign language (which explained the accent) and walked over to where Jody was introducing a smiling blonde woman to Charlie.  He decided it was probably as good a time to get started as any, now that all but one of their number was here.

 

            “Alright, alright, everyone! Just…take a seat.”  There was a general muttering and a shuffling of clothes and chairs until everyone was seated, Sam and Dean standing at the end of the room usually reserved for bands or DJ’s, “Alright so, um,” Dean glanced at Sam, who gave him an encouraging nod.  God, but he hated this public speaking shit! “Anyone who isn’t here for the first formal meeting of The Losers Club, you’re in the wrong room.”  Dean chuckled weakly then cleared his throat when everyone just stared at him silently.  “Right, um, okay, so before we get started, I have kind of a confession to make.  I, uh, well, some of you know this, but I was forced into the Angel Acceptance Program a while ago…and, well…I think…no, I know, that my Angel, he wants to help.”  Several people exclaimed in shock or raised their voices angrily to argue, shouting at Dean that he was a moron or worse, until Sam whistled loudly and stepped in front of his brother.

 

            “Hey!  Knock it off! Those of you who know Dean know he wouldn’t just reveal this thing to anyone!  Hell, he only just told me when I tried to recruit him a week ago.  So, let’s just…let’s just hear him out, okay?” Sam gave a couple of the loudest protestors pointed looks and stepped over to let Dean take a step forward.

 

            “Okay, look, you guys know, we aren’t gonna get very far without some inside information.  We need someone from their side, someone who can get the kind of intel that the aliens aren’t just gonna fork over of their own free will.  Well, Castiel is that person and, frankly, I think it’s pretty brave of him to do this for us.  So, uh, here goes,” Dean clasped his hands in front of him and closed his eyes, “Castiel, we’re ready for ya, buddy, so, uh, come on down.” Dean looked up expectantly.  A couple of other people, Sam included, started glancing around the room, looking for someone to pop up amongst them.  Dean sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He should have practiced the whole telepathic phone call thing, but he’d done as Cas had told him, so he didn’t understand why-

 

            “I told you it is not like praying, Dean.” Castiel spoke from right behind him.

 

            Dean jumped forward and spun around, “Cas! Get outta my ass!” 

 

            Castiel tipped his head in confusion, “I haven’t been in-“

 

            “Ya know what, never mind,” Dean interrupted him, blushing violently when Sam smirked at him knowingly.  Dean pulled Castiel forward, to face the motley crew of rebels they’d assembled in the back room of a dive bar, “Everyone, Castiel, a Seraph of the Celestial and our last best hope of finding out exactly what the Angels are really up to.  Cas, everyone.”  Castiel tried out the smile he and Dean had been working on and because he was smiling back proudly at his Angel, Dean didn’t see the guy with the Angel blade until it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, but you know I'll make it worth your while ;-p


	3. I Am the Highway (Audioslave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean deal with the aftermath of Gordon's attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! Miss me? I sure missed you! I graduated on the 9th, but picked up a lot of hours at work and when I finally sat down to finish this chapter, I had a hard time getting back into it.
> 
> I think I've finally gotten my groove back, but let me know what you think.

I Am the Highway (Audioslave)

 

**_You don’t have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. And I still believe that that’s something worth fighting for._ **

           

            I have said before, and this point I cannot overemphasize, your species is, by far, the most complex, unpredictable, and, frankly, fascinating people we Celestials have ever come across.  I had no doubt, when Dean brought me to that first meeting, that I would encounter a whole range of new humans, the good, the bad, and the ugly, as Dean would say.  It is in all of you, all the love and hate and indifference for your fellow man.  The difference, my friends, the thing you each hold within yourselves, is the freedom to choose which person you want to be.  The difference is free will.  And that is what you can never stop fighting for.

 

**_Honestly, I think the world’s gonna end bloody.  But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight.  We do have choices._ **

****

            All Dean remembers from that moment of blinding panic was quick little snapshots of action; Sam’s confused face as the guy Ash introduced as Gordon pushed him out of the way, Gordon’s face curling up in a snarl of the most terrible rage Dean had ever seen, the ear-splitting sound of what he later learned was Cas’ real voice screaming in outrage, and the Angel blade sinking into Cas’ heart as the Angel shielded Dean with his left arm.  It was a flicker show of horror.  He’d heard about the blades, how they were the only thing that could truly kill an Angel, not just expel it from its vessel, not just damage the vessel beyond repair, but truly kill a millennia-old being who had traveled billions of light years and seen more wonders than the Earth herself had seen.  He’d heard of the blinding blue-white light that would shoot out of the Angel’s eyes and mouth, the guttering out of their eternal flamed in a blinding flash.  And when Gordon stepped back, the bloody silver blade in hand, his face still in its rictus of anger, Castiel looked down at the wound, then over at Dean and _smiled_.  It wasn’t the polite, public face of the helpful Angel, it wasn’t the weird lip-stretch he’d first tried out with Dean and then Sam.  It was wide, showed his gums, crinkled the skin around his eyes so much they almost disappeared entirely.  It was the first relieved smile Dean had seen on his Angel’s face. 

 

            “ _Cas,_ ” Dean breathed as he took a tentative step forward, scared to get too close, still expecting that blinding flash to explode out of the alien’s vessel as his life was snuffed out but unable to stop the pull he felt to take Cas’ hand one last time.  He touched Castiel’s outstretched fingers with his own.  Cas looked back down at his still-bleeding chest and ran his other hand across his chest.  A tiny bit of light glowed at the point of contact and Castiel finally turned to face Dean, reaching out with both hands to pull the human closer.  Dean made a choked sobbing sound and let the Angel reel him into an embrace.  Cas smoothed his hands down Dean’s back as they clung together.  “H-how…why…why aren’t you…” Dean stuttered into Cas’ warm neck.

 

            Sam’s big hand was suddenly on Dean’s shoulder, bringing him around to the real world and away from the mesmerizing smell at Castiel’s collar, “Dean, look,” his brother said as he tugged Dean around to see what he held in his hand.  Castiel took the blade from Sam and examined it briefly.

 

            “This is made of titanium.  It is not an authentic Que’roobinm” Castiel said softly, handing the fake Angel blade over to Dean.  Dean wrinkled his nose at the sight of Cas’ blood drying on the blade.

 

            “It’s a fake…it’s a fake,” Dean muttered to himself.  The weapon was hefty, solid.  It could have definitely hurt or killed a human, easily, but Cas had healed up the puncture wound like it was nothing, like he had healed Garth’s hand, and he was still smiling at Dean.  Dean could feel tears of relief threatening and cleared his throat, trying to get his shit together before he cried all over the place like a total girl.  Ash and Jody were pulling Gordon up to standing, his wrists already cuffed behind his back. 

 

            “Dean,” Cas called softly behind him, “Dean…the Host…I’m being called…I…”  And then he was gone, his vessel’s face going slack in his absence.  Dean dimly registered the muttering of his friends and family, but he ignored it in favor of getting a chair under Cas’ vessel and pulling him over to the side, where he could sit near it and keep watch.  Jody and Sam were busy arguing over what to do with Gordon, Jody screaming that he was under arrest for assault and Sam worried that he would run his big mouth to the wrong person and expose them all.  Suddenly, there was a young man standing next to Eileen.  She glared at him and he cringed slightly.  Sam instantly stepped between them and then everyone was yelling.

 

            Judge Turner whistled loud enough to shut everyone up and Bobby yelled at them all to calm the Hell down.  Dean watched everything from his spot in the corner with Castiel’s vessel, it’s smooth hand held firmly between both of his.  Sam was talking in low tones to the Angel who had popped up, then turned and pointed to Dean.

 

            Eileen, Sam, and the Angel descended on him and he blinked up at them, already a little numb with shock and missing Castiel like a limb.  “Dean, this is my Angel, Alfie,” Eileen began.

 

            Dean couldn’t help the little burp of laughter that escaped his lips, “Alfie? Seriously?”

 

            “Well, that is what Eileen calls me.  I am Samandriel, a Seraph of the Celestial,” the Angel extended his hand for Dean to shake.  Dean nodded at him but refused to let go of Cas’ hand.

 

            “Anyway,” Sam side-eyed Alfie, “Eileen said he’s with us, she just wasn’t sure about this meeting so she told him to stay home until she called him.”

 

            “He doesn’t listen very well,” Eileen glared over at her Angel.

 

            Alfie ignored her and addressed Dean, “I felt her shock and fear before I heard the Host’s cry, so I came to check on her,” Alfie leaned around Sam and glared back at Eileen, “as is my _duty_.”  Eileen huffed and crossed her arms, face pointed away from her Angel.

 

            “Alright, look…what do you mean? The Host cried?” Dean asked, clearly confused.

 

            “When one of our number is injured, intentionally injured, the Host can feel it.  You see, we are all connected through the-“

 

            “Yeah, yeah, I know how it works,” Dean sighed, “So, the Host, what? Called Cas back to check on him?”

 

            “Yes, essentially, although he will be required to give an immediate status report,” Alfie muttered, looking for all the world like he was ashamed.

 

            Dean narrowed his eyes at the Angel.  His time with Cas had taught him how to read the aliens better than most humans, “What are you not telling us?”

 

            Alfie fidgeted slightly until Eileen placed a hand on his shoulder and caught his eye.  He visibly relaxed then squared his shoulders, turning to Dean, “He has to report to Naomi.”

 

            Dean and Sam shared a perplexed look before Dean stared at Alfie again, “Who?”

 

**_In the words of a good friend…BITE ME._ **

****

            Because I had never done any work on the surface of any of the planets we had helped, I did not know what to expect of this emergency status report.  I manifested in what resembled an office, seated in a chair facing a desk.  The constructs that the Host had been using for those of us serving on the planet had taken on a decidedly Earthly bent.  I can only assume this was to maintain our assimilation into human culture, but it made me leery nonetheless.  Naomi entered the room in her human vessel, hair pulled back in a style Dean had dubbed ‘uptight bitch’, her mouth set in a firm line.

 

            “Castiel,” she began, superficially pleasant as she sat in the leather chair behind the desk, “report, please.”

 

            I cleared my throat and gave her a bastardized version of events, “My human charge and I were enjoying an evening at his favorite local drinking establishment when a deranged human attempted to injure me with a blade.”

 

            “’Attempted to injure you’? That’s what you call it? Did he not stab your vessel through the heart?” Naomi laced her fingers together in her lap and leaned back, eyeing Castiel suspiciously.

 

            “He did, indeed, succeed in puncturing my vessel’s cardiac muscle.  I healed it, of course. He has already been arrested by a member of local constabulary who was also present.”  I had no real idea what had happened to Gordon Walker.  When I was called away, Sam Winchester and the sheriff were still arguing over what to do with him.

 

            “Hmm,” Naomi looked down at her hands and considered this for a moment.  “And what of your most recent mission parameters?  Have you acquired proof of your charge’s involvement in the rebellion?”

 

            My answer was, in hindsight, perhaps a bit too hasty, “He is not involved.”

 

            “I see,” Naomi unfolded her hands and leaned slightly across the desk toward me.  “Castiel, I believe you are lying to me.” Naomi cut off my protests with a wave of her hand, “I believe your inexperience with a corporeal form has led you astray.  I believe you have forgotten our mission on this planet in your pursuit of sensation.  I believe you have forsaken your brethren in favor of this pursuit and are now blind to your duty to the Host.  I believe you have Fallen, Castiel.”  The door behind me opened and four large, male vessels arrayed themselves behind my chair.  I could sense they were of a higher order than myself and a physical altercation would be to no avail.  “Castiel, member of the order of Seraph, you are hereby remanded to the custody of this division, your planet side commission is revoked.  You will surrender your vessel and submit to reeducation immediately.”  Naomi’s mouth turned down in false sympathy, “I truly regret this course, Castiel, but you have forced our hand in this matter by your continued refusal to do your duty to our people.”

 

            Rage like I had never known boiled under my skin, even though my vessel was not actually here and this was merely a simulated environment.  I somehow retained all the emotions and sensations I had experienced on Earth and they forced their way out unbidden, “In the words of a good friend…BITE ME,” I spat at her.  My arms were grabbed by two of the vessels, my legs by the other two and I was hauled from the room thrashing uselessly between them.

 

**_We know a little bit about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous._ **

****

            The next two days were kind of a blur for Dean.  He almost felt like he hadn’t really left that corner of the banquet room, just sitting with Castiel’s vessel, letting everyone race past and around them, going about the important work without him.  He did leave though, he even let Sam and Ash carry Castiel’s body out to the Impala so Dean could take him home.  He and Sam laid the vessel out in Dean’s bed, on what Dean had quickly come to think of as Cas’ side of the bed.  Dean stripped him of his coats, shoes, and bloody shirts, dressing him in a worn-soft Aerosmith t shirt and tucking him under the covers with his hands laced together on his stomach.  Sam left the room quietly as Dean curled up next to Cas’ vessel under the covers.

 

            When Dean woke up, Sam was still there, standing in his little kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal.  “I bought you some more milk.  The stuff in the fridge converted to yogurtism.”

 

            Dean huffed out a reluctant laugh, “Thanks man,” he stumbled over to a chair and flopped down, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, “Haven’t really had the time to use the groceries up before shit went bad, ya know?”  Sam gave him a pitying look and slipped his cell phone in his back pocket.

 

            “Yeah, I know…um, lot’s happened in the last couple of days, if you’re ready to hear it.”

 

            “Couple of days?!  Jesus, Sam, how long was I asleep?!” Dean sat up straighter and leveled Sam with a bitch face of his own.

 

            “About two days? You were in and out, rambling about Cas and the Angels, a lot of moaning and tossing and turning.  Gabriel said that’s to be expected.  You quieted down as soon as we put the sigils up but you took another couple hours to wake up.”

 

            “Wait…who? And you put what up?  Up where?”

 

            “Just, well, you must be starving…um, Ash is bringing you something from the Roadhouse.  Why don’t you go shower and I’ll catch you up while you eat, okay?”

 

            Dean grumbled but let Sam lead him toward the bathroom, silently accepting the pile of clean clothes his brother pressed into his hands and shutting himself in the bathroom.  Being in the room where he gave Cas his first blowjob sets off the empty space in his chest, a hollow echo that made his eyes burn and his throat close up on a stifled sob.  Stepping into the hot spray brings back images he doesn’t have the mental energy to fight back.  Cas pressed up against the tile after Dean pointed the showerhead away so he could look up at the Angel while he blew him.  It was technically Dean’s first time giving head, but everything he did was magic to Cas.  As he kneeled at Castiel’s feet, his face slowly morphed from confused to awed, his questions choked off as Dean gripped the base of his cock and, eyes locked on Cas’, licked across the slit, mouthed at the soft head, tasting the Angel for the first time like this.  The sweet-bitter-musky taste like biting down on a piece of clover with a penny in his mouth and Dean moaned, wondering why he’d waited almost two weeks to do this.  His eyes slipped closed involuntarily as he worked his way down as far as he could go, which turned out not to be very far, maybe halfway down, so he missed the look on Cas’ face before he moaned Dean’s name and let his head thunk back on the tiles. 

 

            Dean lost himself in the push-pull of his lips over the velvet skin, flicking his tongue over the head and along the thick vein running up the underside of Castiel’s cock, reveling in the shudders passing through the Angel’s thick thighs, the growls and pleas spilling from his lips, oblivious to anything but the heavy weight of Castiel filling his mouth, his senses, his mind, until Cas’ slender fingers brushed the bolt of his jaw and he looked back up.  Cas’ hair was simultaneously plastered to his forehead and spiked up all over, like he’d been gripping it and pulling while Dean sucked him.  The blush on his face had run down his chest and it heaved with every breath of the steamy air, his eyes so dark Dean couldn’t see any blue around the pupils.  “ _I…Dean…I believe I will soon reach my climax._ ”  Always so polite, was Dean’s Angel.  “ _S’ok baby, I want you to, want you to come in my mouth, wanna taste you,_ ” Dean had told him before sinking back down and ramping up everything he’d been doing, working the base with his hand and fondling Cas’ tight balls with his other hand.  Castiel had hissed and jerked, crying out briefly, a garbled version of Dean’s name, before his dick got just a little stiffer and burst across Dean’s tongue when he was on an upstroke.

 

            Dean had let the pulses of thick come fill his mouth, scared to swallow, lest he gag on it and freak Cas out, and slowed his ministrations as the cock in his mouth shuddered to a stop.  He finally took his mouth off, letting the accumulated spit and come flow over his bottom lip as he loosely pumped Cas’ softening dick and looked up at him.  Castiel was looking at him with such undisguised adoration, Dean had to wipe his mouth off and look away.  The Angel helped him up to standing, his knees protesting the hard bathtub surface, and pulled him into a slow, gentle kiss, “ _I believe it is traditional to reciprocate at this point in the proceedings_.”  Real-time Dean groaned at the memory and leaned heavily on the shower wall, his back to the spray as he jacked his hard dick to the image of Castiel on his knees, his thick lashes sparkling with water droplets and so very seriously considering Dean’s hard length before he engulfed it from root to tip in a move that had Dean’s knees buckling as he shouted his pleasure and surprise. 

 

            Dean groaned quietly in time with Memory-Dean, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that the object of his affections was gone and probably in very real danger, his vessel laid out like a corpse in their bed.  His hand sped up on his dick, more out of a need to finish himself quickly than any quest for pleasure.  He bit his bottom lip hard to stifle his grunts as he hit his peak, shooting into the tub and over his knuckles.  Dean let his head fall back as he tried to slow his breathing, his hand slowing down, too, squeezing out the last drops of his release.  It was easy to tell himself all the moisture on his face was from the shower. 

 

            By the time he made it back out to the kitchen, Sam was pulling Styrofoam boxes out of a brown paper sack.  Dean sat down in front of the one Sam opened to reveal his burger and fries, taking the beer his brother handed him gratefully.  Sam sat down opposite him with his own beer and watched Dean work his way mechanically through half his burger before he spoke up.

 

            “I’ll start with what we know and then I’ll get to how we know it.  Castiel has been slotted for reeducation,” Thankfully he’d waited until Dean swallowed his current bite of food before saying that last bit, “From what I’ve been able to find out, that usually entails some kind of torture, but mostly they’re trying to…wipe his hard drive, so to speak.”

 

            Dean’s eyes were hard as flint as he stared at his brother and, in that moment, Sam almost felt sorry for the Angels holding Castiel hostage.  Almost.  “Great,” Dean growled menacingly, “How do we get him back?  And why the _fuck_ did you let me sleep for _two days_ while those dicks are torturing Cas?!  How could you do that, Sam?! He’s family, goddamnit!” Dean slammed his fist on the table and Sam had a hard time not jumping.  This was, by far, the most pissed off he’d ever seen his brother and it was pretty damn scary.

 

            “Just…Dean! Let me finish, okay?  He’s safe, for now, okay? Nothing’s really happened to him…yet.  They can’t do anything until they have his vessel and they _cannot_ get to it as long as it stays here!  Listen, the best way I can explain it is, like, they need his vessel to break through his personal…firewalls, to get to what’s in his head.  And they don’t dare wipe him until they get that information.  He isn’t corporeal up there, so they can’t hurt him-“

 

            “Physically, Sam, they can’t hurt him _physically_ ,” Dean pointed out.

 

            “Right, yes, but, they’re basically going to try to trick him into giving up the information voluntarily, like psych it out of him, playing mind games, which-which, no, listen, Dean, which he should be able to see right through, okay?  Because of you, because of his connection to you!  They’re just wasting their time because they’ll never be able to get his vessel back in time.”

 

            “In time for what?”

 

            “Before Gabriel steals his Grace and brings it back to his vessel.”

 

            “Okay, who the fuck is Gabriel?”

 

            “Gabriel is…ha, well, Gabriel is actually a Fallen ArchAngel.”

 

            “Seriously? When the fuck did that happen?”

 

            “Apparently, eons ago.  The Celestials came upon a planet full of creatures they couldn’t convert so they…well, they took some of them for experimentation, sold the rest into slavery, and stripped the planet of usable resources.”

 

            “Jesus,” Dean muttered, burger forgotten.

 

            “Yeah, so, Gabriel ran off on his own.  I guess Archs can operate independently of the Host, not that they’ve ever told the lower orders that.  Gabe said everything went to shit after their Father disappeared, leaving the Archs in charge of the whole operation.  He wondered around the galaxy for a while until he finally settled here, back when humans were just coming down from the trees.  He wanted a fresh start, somewhere out of the way.  He’s been fighting the Celestials, in secret, ever since they showed up.  He, uh, he claims to have started the rebellion, originally, if you can believe that.”

 

            “Just,” Dean scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck in frustration, “just tell me how we’re getting Castiel back,” he sighed.

 

            “Well, Gabriel can’t go back to the Host, he did something to his Grace that prevents them from sensing him, but it also means he can’t hook back into the system.  So, Inias and Samandriel are getting him out.”

 

            “How?! When?!”

 

            Sam put up a hand, “They…tried to explain it but I didn’t understand much of what they said.  We just have to trust them because we don’t have any other option.  From what Gabe said, it’s highly dangerous but the sigils won’t hold if the Celestials decide they’re done waiting and knock the damn walls down, so-“

 

            “Wait, my walls?  These walls? Of my house?”

 

            “Uh, yeah, see,” Sam jumped up and pulled a Star Trek poster off the wall.  There was a big loopy symbol painted on the wall, “There’s one of these on every wall in the house, including the basement, Gabe said they’re to keep the house hidden from the Angels, and so far, he’s been right.”

 

            “I can’t believe you spray painted all over my walls, dude.”  Before Sam could point out the obvious, there was a knock at the door.  “Hold that thought.” Dean walked toward the door.

 

            “Wait, Dean, it might be-“ Sam yelled, trying to clamor over the back of the couch to get to the door first.  He wasn’t quick enough and Dean had the door halfway open before his brother’s words registered.  He tried to push the door shut again, but a surprisingly strong munchkin pushed his way in, knocking Dean back and slamming the door shut behind himself.

 

            Back to the door, the smaller man gulped down a few breaths before smiling crookedly and sticking out a hand, “You must be Dean-O, I heard you’re bangin’ my little brother.”

 

**_I used to believe in a plan.  I used to believe I had some mission._ **

****

            Pain…yes, there was pain.  But pain is…pain is tricky.  It is unquantifiable, to those who have not felt the kind of deep pain that vibrates the core of oneself, threatens to tumble it down.  What my brothers and sisters did to me, well, most would call it unforgiveable.  But I knew, even then, that my torturers were simply following orders that, to them, seemed reasonable and necessary.  The propaganda that they were subjected to, no doubt, warped their image of me.  To them, I was a traitor, a guerrilla, a potential terrorist who threatened the existence of our entire race.  I, of course, had no such power or even the ambition to perform genocide on my own people, I simply wanted them to stop.  Humanity was rejecting the insinuation of our alien ideals, like a body will build up secretions around a splinter, slowly pushing the foreign matter out of the skin.  Our attempts to burrow deeper, to fight their natural defenses, was only serving to spread the rebellion, rather than dampen it.  I knew we needed a different approach.  Clearly, forcing our program onto the people of Earth was not working.  I did not anticipate the response my ideas would illicit from my superiors.

 

**_It doesn’t matter what you are.  It only matters what you do._ **

****

            Sam had thought Dean and Gabriel would be like oil and water, just going off of what little he knew of the rebel Angel.  He seemed almost physically incapable of taking anything seriously and it frankly surprised Sam that he was doing anything to rid the humans of the Celestials.  He seemed more the type to hide until the fighting was done and he could resume his usual schedule of gluttony and debauchery.  Sam supposed Gabriel understood there wouldn’t be much fun to be had on a planet decimated by his family and maybe that was his primary motivation, but the end result was that he had invaluable information and he was willing to share it.  Dean, on the other hand, was entirely focused on saving Castiel, rebellion and humanity’s future be damned.  The two shocked him by immediately getting along like a house afire, their shared goal of freeing Castiel giving them common ground. 

 

            Once he had gotten Dean caught up on the last two days, there wasn’t much more to do than wait for Samandriel and Inias to send word to Gabriel that they had Cas’ Grace.  The real argument started when Gabriel informed the brothers that he would be going alone to retrieve it.

 

            “Sam can stay here.  I’m going with you,” Dean stated lowly, glaring daggers at Gabriel, who was staring back just as menacingly.

 

            “Castiel is _my_ little brother, I don’t need your help taking care of _my_ family.  You’ll just slow me down, anyway.”  Sam could tell by the look on Dean’s face that he was ready to explode.

 

            “Guys, guys! Just…can we cool it down for a minute?” Sam stepped in front of Dean, one hand on his brother’s chest, the other held out beseechingly toward Gabe.  “Look, Gabe, Cas is our family, too, and honestly, we feel responsible for getting him into this, so, please…” Sam trailed off, directing the full force of what Dean always called his ‘kicked puppy’ face at the Angel, before turning to Dean.  “And Dean, if you want Cas back in one piece and as quickly as possible, you are gonna _have_ to let Gabriel call some of the shots here, okay?  He hasn’t let us down yet and he wants Cas back just as badly as we do.”

 

            “Fine,” Dean grumbled and backed off, turning in a circle and gripping his hair, “FUCK!  Okay, fine, let’s just…at least tell me the plan!”

 

            Gabe sighed, relaxing his shoulders, and opened his mouth to answer when his phone rang.  His eyebrows drew down as he brought it to his ear, “Yeah, speak to me, brother.”

 

            Dean and Sam watched anxiously as Gabriel listened to whomever was on the other end of the line.  The Angel’s shoulders sagged and he wiped tears from his eyes as he nodded, “Yeah…no, you can tell me later.  Yes, I know it.  I can be there in a few seconds.  Well, don’t bother, I’ll bring you both back here.  And, Inias…thank you.” Gabriel hung up before he could get a response.  He looked between the Winchesters and tried to smile, but they could both see the immense grief that weighed the smaller man’s shoulders down.  “Inias has him.”  Dean’s knees nearly collapsed and he shuddered out the breath he’d been holding.  Sam sighed out a similar breath and clasped Dean’s shoulder. 

 

            Gabriel moved toward the door, heading outside since the sigils on the walls prevented him from teleporting in or out of the house, “Wait by the door.  I have to do this quick.  We need to be able to walk in as soon as we land.” And with that, he was out the door.  Dean rushed to follow him, holding onto the doorknob, his ear against the wood.  Sam stood behind him and tried not to breathe too loud.  It was literal seconds before Dean heard the familiar rustle of wings that signaled Gabriel’s return.

 

            Dean yanked the door open and stepped back, Sam backing up a step to give him room, as Gabriel hustled Inias through the doorway.  Sam caught the tight-lipped expression on Dean’s face as he turned away from shutting and locking the door.  Inias sagged in Gabe’s arms, a long streak of blood smeared from his left temple down his neck, dried and already flaking away from his skin.  Sam, Dean and Gabriel all started talking at once.

 

            “He can’t stay here long-“ Gabe blurted out over the top of Dean’s demands to know what was going on and Sam’s questions about Samandriel.

 

            “He’s…gone,” Inias whispered, his head lolling onto Gabe’s shoulder as his knees buckled.  The three-way standoff exploded into motion as Gabriel tried to hold the bigger Angel up, Sam swooped in to catch Inias across his shoulders and under his legs, and Dean moving the coffee table out of the way so Sam could lay the alien down on the couch.  As he did, a glowing object slipped out from under the Angel’s neckline, coming to rest in the divet between his collar bones.  Sam and Dean both gasped and stepped back, Dean’s head whipping around to glare at Gabriel before he stepped back and went to grab at the vial of swirling blueish white fog strung around Inias’ neck.

 

            Inias’ eyes shot open and he snatched the vial up in his hand, turning away from Dean and into the back of the couch with a weakly muttered ‘no!’.  Dean threw his hands up in frustration and before he could start yelling at Gabriel, Sam knelt beside the couch, placing his big hand gently on Inias’ shoulder.  Sam slowly turned the alien over onto his back.

 

            “Inias, we just want to get Castiel back in his vessel.  We won’t hurt him, I swear,” Inias narrowed his eyes at the human but his shoulders dropped slightly, “Please, Inias, you know I’m Castiel’s friend and…and you must know how Dean feels about him.  Please, Inias, don’t let all this be for nothing,” Sam begged softly.  The way the Angel’s eyes kept going unfocused and starting to roll up in his head made Sam think he may have gotten a concussion and was probably suffering at least some mild confusion, but he hesitantly released the vial from his grip and relaxed back into the couch.  Sam smiled softly at him, trying to concentrate on reassuring thoughts in case Inias was able to pick up on his emotions, and ever-so-slowly reached up to untie the cord from around the alien’s neck.  Once Sam had the vial in hand and away from the Angel’s skin, Inias seemed to melt further into the couch and he let out a long sigh, as if his brother’s Grace had been a heavy burden and maybe it had.  Sam couldn’t imagine the pressure and grief Inias must be feeling, losing one brother in an attempt to rescue another.  He’d only ever had Dean, but just the thought of losing him, however noble the cause, made his gorge rise and his eyes sting with the sharp tang of tears.

 

            Sam stood up and let Gabriel take his place, the ArchAngel immediately placing a hand on Inias’ forehead, healing his injuries.  Sam stepped around the coffee table to Dean, who was fairly quivering in his anxiety.  Sam gently placed the vial in Dean’s hand while holding his gaze and wrapped his brother’s fingers firmly around Cas’ Grace.  As soon as he had the vial in his hand, Dean’s shaking ceased and he smiled weakly up at Sam with a whispered, “Thanks.”

 

            Dean swallowed audibly and cleared his throat, “So, uh, Gabriel, what…what do I…How…” He trailed off as he gazed down at the glow seeping out from between his fingers, nearly overwhelmed with the concept of what he held in his hand.  He felt like every one of his organs were vibrating, on the verge of shaking apart, until Sammy put Cas’ Grace in his hand and everything went perfectly still.  Something fierce and…righteous swept through him.  He stood up a little straighter, his face calm and set, his mind clear of the jabbering, scuttling worries that had been clouding it ever since Cas’ vessel went still and blank two days ago.  Now, he simply wanted to not screw this up, he just wanted his Angel back.

 

            Gabriel stayed kneeling beside Inias, gently brushing the Angel’s hair back from his face, “Sit his vessel up and open its mouth.  When you open the vial in front of his mouth, his Grace will be reabsorbed automatically.”

 

            “Sammy, a little help?” Dean said flatly as he strode purposefully down the short hallway to his room.  Sam helped him sit Castiel’s body up, propping it against the head board, then stepped back.  Dean sat next to the alien’s hip and took several deep breaths before thumbing Cas’ mouth open.  One more steadying breath and Dean brought the glowing vial up in front of Cas’ chin.  Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Dean pulled the small piece of cork out and held his breath.

 

            The Grace rose slowly at first, twisting sinuously around itself as it climbed until it looked like a reverse video of Cas breathing out smoke through his nose and mouth.  Dean’s face split in a relieved smile and he let out the breath he’d been holding slowly, so as not to disturb the flow of Grace.  It seemed like hours while he watched what looked like a more copious amount of Grace than could have possibly been contained in the small vial enter Cas’ vessel, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two.  As the last tendrils of Grace seeped out of the vial, Cas’ eyes flew open and he gasped the last of his Grace into his mouth.

 

            Dean let out a sob and Sam whooped.  Castiel’s eyes cut over to Sam, then quickly locked onto Dean’s, “I will not tell you anything more than I already have, so you might as well let me go back into stasis.”  

 

            “Wait-wh-what?  No, Cas, it’s us, it’s me, Dean…a-a-and Sam, see?”  Castiel didn’t flinch and his gaze didn’t waver one bit as he stared at Dean, but his jaw stiffened, the bolt of it flexing as he clenched his teeth.

 

            “Let. Me. Go.” He growled lowly.  Dean was stunned, he didn’t know what was going on.  Did Cas not recognize him?  What the Hell had those bastards done to him?

 

            “Cas?  Baby, I-I don’t…look, it’s me, Dean, and this is Sam…You, you know us…Cas, I-“ Dean reached for Castiel’s hand and the Angel flinched back, pulling both hands in towards his chest.  Sam stepped toward the bed, his hand outstretched.  As Dean turned to tell him to stay back, Castiel tilted his head to the ceiling and screamed in his True Voice.  Both brothers dropped to the floor, holding their ears and rolling back and forth in agony as every window in the house shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm sorry, but I had to end this chapter somewhere and if you're still reading this fic after the last chapter's cliffhanger and months-long hiatus, I think you can make it another couple of days until I finish the final chapter.


	4. Clocks (Coldplay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello!!!
> 
> I'm BAAAAAAAAACK!
> 
> I am so, so sorry this took so long! I can't even tell you guys how much my life has changed.  
> Anyway, here's the smut-free (sorry) final chapter. I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life

Clocks (Coldplay)

 

**_There’s seemingly nothing but chaos.  But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams._ **

I have explained a great many things to humans since I began this.  I have told my story countless times and yet, still, I have not been able to adequately clarify what was done to my mind by my own people at the beginning of the War.  I have asked Gabriel to help, to at least tell me what he did to…correct what was wrong, but he always refuses. I ceased asking him long ago. Suffice it to say, what I experienced was akin to a condition most often seen in soldiers upon their return from combat situations and survivors of serious trauma, called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Luckily, for all of us, my brother was able to ease my tortured mind and bring me back to my human. There is no telling what would have befallen your people had he not.

**_Decide to be fine until the end of the week. Make yourself smile because that’s your job. Then do it again the next week. Do it right, with a smile, or don’t do it at all._ **

The high-pitched screeching tone flowing out of his Angel wiped all coherent thought from Dean’s brain and he writhed mindlessly on the floor.  So great was his pain, he didn’t notice Sam’s anquished screaming as he thrashed right next to him, nor did he notice the shards of broken glass from his bedroom window as they rained down upon him and his brother, and he certainly didn’t notice Gabriel running into the room, leaping over his and Sam’s prone forms, to slap a hand to Castiel’s forehead.  The next thing he became aware of was the sound of Sam’s panting whimpers and the feeling of blood trickling out of his ears.

Dean rolled over to his brother and patted around on his chest and face until he got a whispered confirmation that Sammy was okay, then he pulled himself up to sitting to find Gabriel kneeling on the bed next to Cas’ body, which had tumbled over from where he had cowered against the headboard.  The rebel ArchAngel was petting Cas’ hair and murmuring soothing reassurances as Castiel stared straight ahead with unblinking eyes.

Dean stood up on wobbly legs, “Wha,” he cleared his throat and pressed on his temple when his head throbbed, “Wha happn’d, wha’s wrong wit ‘im, Gabe?”  Gabriel looked back at him briefly before returning his attention to Cas.

“Re-education,” Gabriel stated flatly.  He finally stood up and went to Sam’s side, helping the bigger man to stand up.  “I would heal you but you’ll be fine with a couple of painkillers and some time. Neither of you sustained any permanent damage to your hearing and I’m running a little low after helping Inias.  I should save what I can for Cassie. Go, get cleaned up and give me about an hour with him, okay?” Sam nodded and, wincing at the pain all this movement was causing, pulled his older brother away from the bed and out into the hall, closing the bedroom door softly behind him.

By the time the two brothers had washed the blood off their necks, taken some Tylenol, and checked on Inias, who was sleeping soundly on Dean’s couch, their heads had stopped ringing and moving around was no longer making their pulses pound painfully through their skulls.  After Dean had Sam safely ensconced in the recliner, he ambled into the kitchen to brew some coffee and find something for Sammy to eat. He took his time and tried not to think about what the other Angels had done to Cas.

**_We aren’t machines for them to program and reprogram._ **

What the Archs failed to understand, what even infant humans have an instinctive grasp of, is the idea that free will can surmount any obstacle.  While Naomi was attempting to break into my mind, she neglected to anticipate that I might return the favor. Her techniques left her exposed. I believe I was the first to ever be able to resist interrogation, but then again, I did have an advantage over other Celestials.  I had Dean.

Dean had taught me so much, more than I realized until I needed to lean on those teachings, until they were all I had left.  His lessons were not just about humans, but also about myself, as a separate entity from the collective whole of my people. As I have stated before, I had spent my entire existence as an extension of their will.  Until I met Dean, I never imagined I had a will of my own. When Naomi tried to exert her will over mine, she was unprepared for me to defy her efforts, much less turn the tables on her. Unfortunately, I was also unprepared.  I was unprepared for the sheer evil which had infested the Host. The glimpse of its depth that I had through Naomi’s mind was enough to…put my mind into a kind of shock, even as I extracted the entirety of the Archs’ plans for the human race.

**_So, what do ya say we kill some evil sons of bitches and raise some Hell, huh?_ **

It was less than an hour when Gabriel came out into the living room, a very disheveled Cas trailing behind him.  Dean popped out of the kitchen when he heard his bedroom door open but hesitated to approach the Angels. Sam sat up from where he had been kicked back in Dean’s recliner.  Gabriel walked over to check on Inias. Castiel’s eyes locked on Dean’s and he held his breath, worry and desire playing across his face. Castiel approached him slowly, cautiously, as one would a wild animal, for fear of it running at the slightest provocation.  Once he was within reach, he lifted one hand, placing it softly on Dean’s stubbled chin. Dean’s breath left him in a whoosh and he leaned lightly into the contact.

“Dean,” Castiel ground out, his voice hoarse and a bit thin, “I am truly sorry if I injured you.  I-I…was not in my right mind, I-“

“Don’t,” Dean whispered, a single tear escaping to roll down to his chin.  Ordinarily, Dean would have laughed it off and swiped the visible evidence that he was a feeling human being away quickly, but his hands were otherwise occupied by pulling Castiel into his arms and clinging to the slightly smaller man for dear life.  Dean buried his face in the sweaty space where Castiel’s neck met his shoulder, a choked sob muffled into the alien’s skin before Dean could get a handle on his noises. He contented himself with a long draw of that scent, of impending electricity and sunshine-soaked petals, and let out a shuddering breath to stave off the crying jag that wanted to exert itself.  Castiel started out a confused stiff board in his embrace, but soon melted into the hug, molding his body to Dean’s, like that one puzzle piece that had been missing for weeks, only to be found under the couch. Dean felt fresh tears prick his eyes as the Angel slotted back into place, the picture whole once more, even more beautiful than the box promised for all the hard work and frustration endured to get to this moment. 

After what seemed like mere seconds, Dean opened his eyes, catching Sam’s and Gabe’s pitying looks before they could slide their gazes away.  Dean straightened up, still gripping Castiel close to him, a sudden, indignant anger burning through him. The Angel let the human guide his movements until his head was tucked under Dean’s chin and he could keep the tremors still by pressing against Dean from knees to chest.  Sam’s face went from soft and sad to slightly terrified when he finally looked at Dean again, his older brother standing tall, feet shoulder-width apart, thick arms surrounding the emotional wreck of his lover, chin jutting out, fire of righteous fury blazing in his eyes. All Sam could think was that Naomi and the other Celestials had just made the colossal mistake of dismissing Dean Winchester.

**_I’ve rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you!_ **

The complete history of the Celestial Wars, the official version, anyway, would have you believe that the War began when the human rebellion had gained enough steam to affect public policy in most of the First World governments, that the War had its roots in a democratic political process.  This is not entirely true. As with most of your species’ history, it was the personal manifested in the macrocosm, and your people’s capacity for empathy, which sounded the cry to battle. The Winchesters were not a family easily able to disregard a wrong done to one of their own and Dean had taken me into his family as surely as he had Bobby or Jody or Charlie.  The fact that I was not even of the same race as the other members of the Winchester clan did not even register. By virtue of holding onto all that Dean had taught me, about humanity, about freedom, about love and family and hope and loyalty; and by turning the tables on my captors in order to help my new family, I had somehow earned my place at their side. Or, perhaps he simply loved me so very much.  Dean, himself, would tell you…no, he would not. He is not one for self-promotion of even introspection. When pressed, the only answer I have ever heard him give is that it was the right thing to do. 

In those early days, we risked our very lives, even in the everyday actions of leaving the confines of Dean’s warded house to brave the dangers of the local grocer.  Gabriel seemed to be the only one not frightened to step out the door without first covering himself with wards. Inias took to staying in Dean’s basement for days at a time, so the Winchesters set up a living area down there for him.  Gabriel eventually decided we needed to expand our base of operations and he and Sam went on to ward the Roadhouse, Sam’s entire apartment building, and as many of the homes of the members of the Rebellion as they could manage in that first week.  An interesting side-note: Gabriel became quite attached to Sam and his girlfriend, Eileen, to the point that Dean teased his brother mercilessly about being in a thruple, whatever that means. 

 

As for my relationship with Dean, we easily transitioned into what Sam termed, “Old Married Couple Mode”.  Dean explained this was a good thing. All I know is that we argued often but made up just as often, frequently by consummating our love physically (and quite loudly, I have been told).  Throughout the course of the Wars, we both experienced soaring victories and crushing defeats, lost comrades and loved ones, committed atrocities and suffered tremendous pain. We were always at the forefront of the fight because Dean would never allow anyone to risk that which he, himself, was not also willing to risk and I would not allow Dean to walk into danger without me by his side.  You humans have a rich history of leaders like Dean Winchester, it is a fact of which you should be proud.

 

On the whole, the history books convey the basic truths of the Celestial Wars.  However, as with any historical event, only those who were there can convey the details, the nuances, of such events.  I will conclude with something that Dean often repeated to those of us who seemed about to give up on the dream of a Free Earth...  

 

**_Be strong in the moments when you want to be weak._ **

 

The image of Castiel Winchester faded from the holoprojector to be replaced with the official seal of the Office of Celestial Affairs.  The shuffling of feet and the rustling of clothes as the children readied to exit the exhibit were quickly covered up by the quiet tones of “Carry On My Wayward Son”, the anthem of the Celestial Wars.  The voice of the current Prime Minister could be heard as the children lined up at the entryway, their teachers silently counting heads and helping corral restless fifth-graders, “The preceding interview does not represent the opinion of the Office of Celestial Affairs, the Office of the Prime Minister of Earth, or the operators of the Topeka Celestial War Museum.  Thank you for your patronage of the Topeka Celestial War Museum. Enjoy the remainder of your visit, Bitches and Jerks.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo....turns out, trying to write two fics at once is fucking brutal and I eventually had to take a long break from both.
> 
> Now that E.T. is done, I'm going to try to finish up Heart, maybe three more chapters left in that one.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> The link to AngelDove's Destiel edit of this song: https://youtu.be/tFYqpekqh9Y
> 
> I recommend subscribing to their channel, lot of fantastic edits that inspire me.


End file.
